


The Problem with Multi-Dimensional Travel

by cancerthecrabbo



Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Daredevil (TV), The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Asphyxiation, Author Is Bad At Updating, Barry Gets Better, Barry has trust issues, Bitterness, Characters will be slowly intigrated, Consequences of Betrayal, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Developing Friendships, Domestic Avengers, FRIDAY makes an appearance, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know guys I'm trying, Into Another Universe/Dimension, Major Spoilers, Mysterious Toxins, Mystery Evil Guy, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paranoia, Post Episode: s02ep23 The Race of His Life, Post Season 2 Finale, Suspense, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Torture, Unplanned Travel, cursing, innuendos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2018-11-08 19:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 22,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11088621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cancerthecrabbo/pseuds/cancerthecrabbo
Summary: Barry ran, he ran faster and harder than he ever had. He was going to save his mother, even if that ruined the timeline. Except, instead of running back in time he poked a hole in his dimension and ended up somewhere called Hell's Kitchen.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you're one of my FF readers, you may notice this story is different from the original but only to improve the quality. I'm not kidding about being terrible at updating, but I will NOT be abandoning this story.

 Barry Allen is the fastest man alive and he feels like a pile of shit.  His entire body ached from head to toe.  It ran bone-deep, pulling a groan from his reluctant lips.  He had no recollection of where he was for a moment until he remembered that his father is dead and he was trying to bring his mother back.

 

Yep.  He poked a hole in space-time again and ended up, _hopefully_ , the night his mother was killed.  Something was off, though.  He never passed out when traversing space-time.  This realization prompted his eyes snapping open in an attempt to figure out what happened differently this time.  The first thing he saw was a brightly lit ceiling.  His eyes burned and his head throbbed spectacularly.  He groaned again. 

 

“Glad to see you’re awake,” a low, gravelly voice made his heart beat even faster in his chest.  He sat up sharply and regretted it instantly.  The muscles he used to sit up burned horribly, making him fall back into the couch he was laying on.

 

“Oh fuck- Please don’t kill me,” Barry said, not knowing what else to say. His arms came up to feebly block a potential attack.

 

“Don’t worry.  I won’t hurt you.”  _That’s what I believed about Zoom and then he broke my back,_ Barry thought bitterly.  He still wasn’t over it.  He wouldn’t be over it in a long time.  The memory of him lying on the ground in agony with fading sight and hearing his friends telling him to stay awake was burned into his brain.  He would never, ever forget it.

 

Barry had bigger problems right now. turned his head carefully and saw a man.  The man had a strong build and was wearing only sweatpants.  It almost made him blush to see the stranger half naked but the heat rising to his cheeks soon turned cold and he paled instead.  The man had a large cut on his right shoulder and butterfly stitches on his eyebrow.  He had bruises all over him, too.  His eyes were unfocused and but were looking somewhere above Barry’s head.

 

“I’ve heard that before,” he muttered under his breath.  And, maybe it was his imagination, but the man’s face seemed to soften.  Oh, yeah, and the man was incredibly gorgeous.  He had a sort of 'handsome wounded duck' vibe.  This thought quickly made his train of thought correct itself.  “Who are you?  Where am I?  What’s going on?”  Barry dragged his hand down his face and then rubbed his temple roughly.  The pounding of his brain was steadfast and painful.  He just wanted it to stop.

 

“I'm Matt.  You’re in Hell’s Kitchen, New York.  Do you remember anything that happened?”  Matt asked.  He leaned forward, placing his hand on Barry’s shoulder.  He flinched but settled back into the cushions and tried to make sense of the memories flashing through his brain.

 

“Not, um, not really.  I-I’m Barry.  Uh- Barry Allen.  What’s the date?  And time?”  He asked, the wheels in his head spinning.

 

“July 30th.  Around midnight.”

 

“No, no, the year?”  Barry pressed.  His muscles tensed and tried to sit up again, and much to his satisfaction, he was able to this time.  Matt’s hand splayed against his shoulder blade to help him up.

 

“…2016.”  Barry let out a huge sigh of relief.  Not much time had passed between his last memory and now, so he didn’t have to be careful about not changing the entire timeline.

 

Barry had been about to go back in time to save his mother from Eobard Thawne.  He had felt so, _so_ broken out on the patio with Iris.  It had finally hit him that he was an orphan, that the two people that had brought him into the world were gone and dead.  Both of them had been killed in the same house, in the same room that they used to watch TV in and kiss and be happy.  Hunter Zolomon had stabbed him in the back – literally, in three different spots, and the claws had grazed his lungs.  He could still remember how they’d pierced his skin, the white-hot, unfathomable pain _tearing through him-_

 

“So, I found you in a leather suit after popping out of what I believe was a bright light.  Care to explain?"  Matt's voice drew him out of his thoughts.

 

That helped kick-start his memory.  Seconds after he’d punctured a hole in space-time, he had skidded to a stop in the middle of a random roof in a very dark city.  On a roof across from his, he’d seen a figure with little horns sticking out the top of its head move toward him quickly.  Barry had tried to get away but his knees had buckled and his muscles completely gave out.  He stayed conscious for several minutes after that and heard the man talking, most likely into a comm., alerting other possibly dangerous people that 'something really weird just happened'.  The man then picked him up in a fireman's hold.  It had taken a very small amount of time to get to a roof where the man/possible metahuman had deposited him onto a couch.  The last thing he remembered before passing out was admiring how soft the couch cushions were.

 

He considered telling Matt the truth.  They were both unmasked, but Barry was obviously at a disadvantage.  He could barely move without his limbs shaking.

 

“You don't have to answer.  However, you should know my allies are almost here.  They won't be as polite."  Matt said.

 

He was going to start his explanation when he heard a door opening and tried to whip around to see who’d arrived but only succeeded in becoming incredibly nauseated.  Barry's head spun like a top and he fell back onto the couch on his side.  He scrambled to try and sit up again.

 

“Relax.  They won't hurt you,” Matt said, standing up and switching his attention to the door.  Barry succeeded in sitting up again. There were three people total, all in costume.  Matt introduced them as Captain America, Ant-Man, and Scarlet Witch.  "Barry here appeared out of thin air.  He was just about to tell me why.  Sit," he said, gesturing to the other chair.  The woman snorted but complied.  The other two went to stand next to Matt.

 

"No leather pants?"  Ant-Man asked.  He looked like a motorcyclist with a bug obsession.

 

"I had to take his mask off to make sure he wasn't dead, so it's only fair."

 

Barry’s exhaustion was beginning to catch up to him.  The edges of his vision darkened and his tongue felt numb in his mouth.  “I was gonna say,” he swallowed and struggled to stay awake, all four heads turning to look at him, “that I’m not- not from this universe.”  And then he passed out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry faints like a damsel in distress. Team Flash deals with the death of a father.
> 
> Italicized are flashbacks.

_The muted sounds of his friends, of his family, laughing and chatting made Barry feel like he should be happy.  Like he_ has _to be happy or something is wrong with him.  The air suddenly felt too hot (it was perfectly warm) and he felt like it was suffocated him.  He opened the door and slowly shut it, moving to the stairs on the patio.  The cold wind pierced his clothes.  He wasn’t sure if this was any better._

_The image of his dead father’s doppelganger throbbed in his mind, sharp and jarring.  It made him ache to his very soul.  Iris joined him on the steps._

_“I can’t stop thinking about my dad’s doppelganger.  Seeing him, knowing that he’s out there, should’ve made it easier.  It doesn’t.  It just made me miss him even more.”  Barry confessed quietly._

_“I can’t even imagine how hard that must’ve been,” Iris said, just as quiet._

_Barry sat up a bit now.  Anger and frustration settled in his gut.  “We just won,” he said, “We just beat Zoom.  Why does it feel like I just lost?”  Even when he was dead, Zoom got him one last time.  It made his blood boil._

_“Because you’ve lost a lot in your life, Barry,” Iris responded, “More than most.  But now you’re free – free to do anything you want.”  She smiled at him warmly.  He smiled back at her, softly._

_“That sounds perfect,” he said sincerely, “But I feel so hollowed out inside right now.  I feel more broken than I’ve ever felt in my life,” tears began to pool in his eyes, “If I’m ever going to be worth anything to you guys, I need to fix what’s wrong with me.  I need to find some- some peace.”_

_Tears prickled in Iris’ eyes, too, “Barry, listen to me.  You’ve been so strong.  You’ve been so strong for_ us. _So I am telling you, we’re gonna do the same thing for you.  Wherever you need to go, whatever you need to do, do it.  And when you get back, we’ll all be here.  I’ll be here.”_

_“Okay,” Barry whispered._

_“I love you, Barry.  We all do,” Iris said.  Something inside of him settled, one less piece of glass moving around inside him.  One less ache eating at him.  Warmth spread, hesitant, in his cold body when she pressed her lips to his forehead._

_“I love you, too,”  Barry said.  Iris smiled at him once more and then stood.  She went back into the house, where Barry knew he wouldn’t-_ couldn’t _follow.  The serenity he could feel radiating from the room made him feel like he and the house were magnets, and he physically couldn’t go in there and face his family.  Not now.  Maybe not ever.  So he stood up.  “That’s why I’m so sorry.  But I have to do this.”  And he ran._

 

_Barry ran._

* * *

 

 _Barry skid to a stop.  He looked around, trying to find the landmarks that indicated he’d gone back in time to the worst night of his life.  His heart sank when he quickly realized that he was nowhere near his childhood home.  In fact, he was probably nowhere near Central City.  The surrounding buildings looked nothing like Central City, and he would know.  Super-speed patrols as the Flash allowed him to take in all the angles he ran at and he could get plopped down in the middle of Central City without a compass and make his way to his second favorite theater easily.  This was_ not _his city._

_His hope, already broken, was turned to dust when he registered the burning pain in his muscles.  He felt like he’d tried to beat up Tony Woodward again.  Black splotches floated across his vision, his head throbbed, his legs felt like they were melting.  Barry looked around wildly, trying to discern where the hell he was.  It didn’t really look like Starling City or Keystone.  It didn’t look like any city he’d been to.  Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something.  A humanoid figure was standing on the roof across from his.  He could faintly make out two little horn-like things sticking out from its head though, so he wasn’t sure if it really was a human.  Suddenly, his knees buckled under him.  He staggered and tried to stay standing, but to no avail.  The figure came closer._

_“Guh-huh,” he grunted intelligently, “N-no…”  The rest of his body came crashing down on the roof and he tried to scramble away from the figure.  He could see now that it was a man, most likely.  Maybe a metahuman.  Carefully, the stranger peeled off his cowl.  Barry's wide eyes greeted the dark mask above him.  Nodding, the man picked him up as if he weighed nothing.  Up close to his face, Barry could see that there was blood staining the mask and trailing down the man’s stubbly cheek._

_“Daredevil to Tower.”  The man said.  His voice was deep and gravelly, catching on some syllables as if he was in pain.  It was subtle, but it was there.  From his position, his head hanging over the man’s shoulder, he could faintly hear voices responding._

_“_ This is Tower, Captain America responding _.”_

_“Cap, an unidentified costume appeared out of nowhere-“_

_Barry’s hearing tapped out for a moment.  The sounds around him faded until they were too muffled for him to hear.  It came back in time for him to hear, “…over to one of my safe houses.  Come with masks.  Daredevil, out.”  The conversation seemed to stop then.  Whoever it was that was carrying him must be part of an organized team.  That spelled out disaster in every language for Barry.  He wasn’t able to concentrate on any of that, though, because his legs still felt like they were melting off of his body.  Fear ripped through him, and he feebly tried to struggle but it didn’t do anything.  The man carrying him only shushed him sharply._ _Barry’s body went limp._

 

* * *

 

“Well,” Scott said.  The kid had just gone and passed out in front of them.  Matt stepped forward and tilted his head, listening to the kid’s breath and heart, no doubt.

 

“He’s fine.  Just exhausted, and hungry." 

 

“Okay, yeah, that’s cool.  He’s not from this universe.  Care to explain, Matt?”  Scott said, placing his hands on his hips.

 

“I know as much as you do.  He was pretty much in shock when I tried to get answers out of him. ” He sat down and gestured vaguely at the floor.  Steve and Scott complied, sitting in a circle in front of the couch as if they were about to engage in show-and-tell.  “His name is Barry Allen," Matt said, "I was patrolling the city, about a block away from here on a roof when a heartbeat came out of nowhere.  One second, nothing but my own heartbeat and the next there’s someone else on the roof across from me.  The kid's heart beats faster than a regular human’s, sometimes too fast for me to actually hear it.  It sounds more like a hum of sorts.  He wasn’t lying when he said he’s from a different universe."

 

"He's young," Steve says.  "And skinny.  How do we know memories weren't planted in his mind, so he really believes he's from a different universe?"

 

"I felt a heat source appear out of thin air and spit him out.  He's wearing a costume, a good one at that.  The cowl has a comm in one ear, so he has a team.  In the other universe."           

 

"He looks too innocent to be a menace.  And kind of adorable."  Scott said.  Steve turned to glare at him.  However, he was right.  The strange young man was _..._ cute.  The scrunched up ski-slope nose, furrowed eyebrows, long eyelashes, and pout made him look like a sad puppy.

 

"I will admit the man is attractive.  I do not think that makes him innocent, but treating him like a villain will not help."  Wanda seemed to make the most sense out of all of them.

 

“He seems to have powers and could be from a different dimension and you focus on his looks?”  Steve asked incredulously.  “We have to make sure he’s not a threat.”

 

“You do not think he is cute?”  Wanda asked.  She sounded offended.  Maybe her priorities weren't quite in order either. 

 

“I didn’t say that."

 

"You should be used to this by now," Matt said.  "He's got a low-grade fever."

 

“Let’s take him to the tower,” Steve said decidedly and stood up, scooping up Barry with ease.  He was completely limp in Captain America’s arms.  Ant-Man and Scarlet Witch stood and followed him out the door and down into the only inconspicuous car Tony had.  The tinted windows kept the night owls of Hell's Kitchen from seeing them.

 

* * *

 

Iris stepped back into the house, rubbing a tear from her cheek.  She wanted to be there for Barry like he was for her, for all of them, but she knew that giving him space was just as important for him to heal.  He needed to find peace.

 

“Iris?”  Joe smiled hesitantly. 

 

“Hey, dad,” Iris sat down on the couch next to her father and leaned her head on his shoulder.  He wrapped an arm around her.

 

“What was that about?  Is Barry okay?”  Joe’s question drew the attention of the others currently in his living room: Caitlin, Cisco, and Wally.

 

“He’s…He’s going to be okay.  He just needs some time to heal.”  Iris said, looking absently toward the window.  There was a burst of light which signaled that Barry had run somewhere at super-speed, but she wasn’t worried.  She knew Barry; she knew that he would leave a message of some sort if he was going to leave.  She’d give him 4 days to say something, and if he didn’t she’d raise the alarm.

 

Barry would be fine.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Flash realizes something is wrong. Barry wakes up in a different dimension.

Everyone was pacing.  _Everyone_ was pacing.  Joe, Caitlin, Cisco, Iris, and Wally were all pacing in a regular-sized living room, so there wasn’t much room for all of them.  They were waiting for Dr. Stein to come to that they could have a discussion.  Barry is missing.  This sent the entire team into disarray and unadulterated panic.

 

“Tell me what he said again, Iris.”  Joe stopped moving long enough to clamp his hands down on his daughter’s shoulders.

 

“He just said that he needed to- to _fix_ what was broken, that’s all.  He didn’t say anything about leaving, and even if he was going to go somewhere, he’d leave a message.  I know Barry, he wouldn’t want us to worry like this,” she said, wringing her hands.

 

“Barry wouldn’t purposefully leave without a trace!”  Cisco said.  He threw his hands in the air, frustrated and scared for his friend.  “Ugh!  W-What if, what if some metahuman took him?  What if Zoom is-“

 

“Don’t even bring that up!  He’s gone, Cisco, he has to be.  Zoom is gone.”  Caitlin interrupted him before he could finish his sentence.  None of them would be able to handle coming to terms with the possibility that the worst had happened.  They knew that if Hunter Zoloman was back, somehow, he wouldn’t come up with a convoluted plan to ruin Barry Allen’s life.  He would take him and kill him instantly.  There was a possibility that the evil speedster would theatrically murder Barry in front of everyone he loves, or more likely the entire city.  But it would all end with Barry’s head detached from his body.  “Zoom is _gone_.”

 

“Okay…okay.  Yeah.  He’s dead, and he isn’t coming back.  But what about metahumans?”  Cisco started pacing again.

 

“Cisco, can you try and vibe him again?”  Wally asked.  It was the first thing he’d said from the start – when Iris had brought up the fact that Barry hadn’t checked in with them in four days.  It may seem as if they were all acting like overprotective first-time parents, but after weeks of nerve-wracking tension and tragedy after tragedy, Barry wouldn’t be at his best.  In fact, he would be at his worst right now.  The problem was that Barry deals with deep emotional pain by bottling it up, pushing away anyone that even remotely likes him, and taking it out on himself.  Like after the singularity.

 

Even so, after the whole ‘spontaneous-black-hole-slash-Flash-saves-the-city-slash-Eddie-dies-slash-Barry-sees-his-mother-die-again’ fiasco, he kept minimal contact with his team, leaving a text here and there, or anonymously leaving them coffee or a pastry (it wasn’t difficult to figure out he left the food - the wind and scattered paper and the fact that it appeared out of nowhere were good clues).  Now, it had been four days since what could easily be classified as the worst week in Barry Allen’s life and none of them had heard anything from him.  It was safe to say that something was wrong. 

 

“Alright.  Pass me it,” Cisco said, referring to the jacket Barry had been wearing on the night they’d last seen him.  The suit was gone from STAR Labs, which had been the second clue that something was wrong.  He clutched it in his hands and concentrated, trying to see him or better yet, contact him.

 

* * *

 

Barry woke up a lot faster than he thought he would be able to.  His body still felt heavy and his muscles ached as if he’d wrestled with King Shark, but his mind was clearer.  Which meant he was able to realize that wherever he was, it wasn’t STAR Labs.  The smell of disinfectant was still there, but it lacked the quiet chatter that came with his injuries.  Lady Gaga wasn’t playing either (Cisco liked to think that it helped).  He opened eyes slowly, noticing that despite being hooked up to an IV, there was no heart monitor.  Whoever put him here must already know it’s useless.

 

“Rise and shine, Baby Face.”  Someone unfamiliar said.  This had him sitting up and clawing at his elbow to _get the hell out_.  His heart had already been thudding in his chest and now was only a steady hum.  “Whoa, kid!”  Barry’s eyes zeroed in on the man by the door, the one that had addressed him as ‘Baby Face’.  He had a goatee and bags under his eyes, and he was holding his hands out toward Barry.  In the spur of the moment, his mind immediately made him think that the man was a metahuman and that some wild shit was going to come out of his hands.  Adrenaline rushed through his veins and lightning sparked in his eyes.  In the span of a second, the needle was gone from his arm and he was at the door.  He ignored the ‘holy crap’ that came from the man and scanned the room he’d run into.  There were only a couple people in it, but none were familiar.

 

The fight or flight reflex forced his mind to work double-time.  Memories snapped into place.  Dimension traveling and some guy named Matt.  Alarm bubbled in him but it seemed like none of them were going to attack immediately.

 

“Kid, er, Barry?  Barry Allen?”  The man behind him called out to him.  Barry whipped his head toward him but kept his body facing the other two people in the large room.  “Why don’t you sit down,” he gestured toward a plush armchair, “And we could start talking?” 

 

“And-“ Barry’s voice was rough, and his throat hurt trying to talk, “And if I don’t?”

 

“Then you will be stuck in a strange, new dimension without any way of replenishing your strength,” A brown-haired woman said firmly.  “We are not going to hurt you, Mr. Allen.”

 

“Oh, yeah, because some deadly-looking lady told me so, it’s true.  I’ll just sit down and wait for General Eiling to pop out and torture me because you’re about to _give me your word_ or some shit, huh?”  Barry spat out angrily.  She and the other man next to her - possibly boy by how young he looked - recoiled and looked vaguely horrified.  Barry didn't regret it because he couldn’t really hold it back.  He was confused and afraid and surrounded by potential enemies, so it wasn’t his first priority to keep his emotions in check.  His eyes raked over the three of them back and forth until he saw their eyes were open wide in alarm.  Barry realized that his entire body was vibrating, which meant that his voice was not only rough but also inhumanly distorted.  Barry clenched his fists and concentrating on stilling his molecules.

 

“I don’t know who you’re talking about, Mr. Allen-"

 

“-Barry.  My father was Mr. Allen.”  Barry’s face went slack.  His father.  The image of a hand vibrating through his father’s chest forced its way to the front of his mind.  He cleared his throat.  “Just call me Barry.”

 

“Alright, Barry.  My name is Tony Stark,” said the man with the goatee, “This is Peter Parker and Wanda Maximoff.”  He looked at the other two with a questioning gaze, and a silent conversation was shared between the three.  Peter, the young one, nodded a moment later.  "We are part of the Avengers."

 

Barry raised an eyebrow.  Cisco would've called them a book club.

 

"Hope you don't mind, my friend took your vitals.  I'm betting you're pretty hungry right now." 

 

"Why would you feed me?  We're complete strangers."  Barry couldn't help but be suspicious.  He was hungry, though, it was gnawing at his stomach as he spoke.

 

"I'm extending an olive branch on behalf of this universe."

 

“I eat _a lot_ though.  Just warning you now.”

 

* * *

 

“I mean, I told you I eat a lot,” Barry shrugged and took a big bite of his tenth pancake.  He’d devoured two full plates of bacon, twelve boiled eggs, a heaping pile of scrambled eggs, and was now sipping his fifth cup of milk.  Barry’s stomach was steadily getting fuller which greatly helped his frayed nerves. He’d caved in when he saw the food being prepared.  As a speedster, it would be harder to not except food.  He knew he had needed to eat soon or he would pass out yet again.

 

“Not even Peter eats that much,” Wanda said, smiling.  Peter looked over like a deer in headlights as he was stuffing pancake in his mouth.

 

“I was hungrier than usual.”  Barry started on his last plate of eggs and bacon.  He pointedly ignored how they were staring at him and focused on not have an anxiety attack.  Just as he was ignoring their prying eyes, he was ignoring the severity of the situation.   He knew if he thought about it, his would spiral into a mess of what if’s and end up choking on his milk.  “How long was I out?”  He asked quietly.

 

“About 3 days,”  Tony said.

 

While Barry was mulling this over, a silence had descended upon the group.  He thought about what a bad idea it had been to eat the food they gave him.  It could be poisoned, and this could be some convoluted experiment.  He mentally shook himself, knowing that this thought process was a slippery slope into madness.  And anyway, if they wanted to kill him they could’ve done it while he was down.  That left one motive: trying to figure out what made him the Flash.  He could just stick around to see if they’re trustworthy and if it turned out that they really were just planning to dissect him then he’d probably be back to full strength by then and could just beat the shit out of them.  The thought made him relax further into the stool he sat on.

 

Tony took advantage of the relative peace and asked, “So, _how_ fast are you, ‘Fastest Man Alive’?” 

 

Barry hummed and said, “Pretty fast.”  Tony pouted and Peter laughed.

 

“No use beating around the bush,” Tony said pleasantly.  He slid Barry’s cup of milk off the table.  The team’s exclamations slowed and as did the rest of the word.  Peter was glaring at Tony, while Wanda had her hands reaching toward the cup and Barry’s breath caught in his throat.  Red lightning had begun to crackle from her fingers but was frozen in Barry’s perspective.  He made a mental note to ask about that later.  Then, he reached down leisurely and grabbed the cup before a single drop of milk had left the cup.  There was a quiet ‘clink’ as he placed it back on the table and the world sped up again.

 

“Holy shit,” Peter spluttered.  “That is _crazy!_ ”

 

“Says the guy that swings around in his pajamas," Tony mutters.

 

“Do you have a treadmill?”  Barry asked.  He didn't want to lose any strength or speed while he was recovering.  Tony’s face lit up like a kid in a candy shop.

 

“I have a lab,” Tony said, grinning, “Would you care to step into my office?”  Barry pursed his lips and nodded hesitantly.  When he stepped forward, his knees buckled, but he straightened up before anyone could notice.  He was still pretty weak, but the idea of running at super speed sounds pretty nice.  He needs to stretch his legs, use his lightning.  “Come on, Science Bro.”  Peter gave him a smile and then smacked Tony upside the head for calling him a ‘Science Bro’ again.

 

* * *

 

The three 'Avengers' were milling around the observation area of the lab.  Tony pointed to a treadmill that didn’t look high-tech enough for Barry.  Regardless, he stepped into it and started to walk a little.  It felt similar to how Cisco’s treadmill worked, but there was too much resistance.  At least Barry had been able to change into some more comfortable clothes.  The sweatpants and sweatshirt fit pretty well seeing as they were spares. 

 

“So, I don’t know how fast you can go, I tinkered with this treadmill a bit because I wanted to be ready for a speedster, and well here you are.  I was just trying to be prepared, so can only handle 1200 mph,” Peter said, gesturing and using his hands while rambling, “But, yeah.  Uh…go ahead.

 

“Alright,” Barry gave him a smile.  He stopped walking for a moment, stretching out his hamstrings and shoulders.  He started to walk again and smoothly transitioned into a jog.  Then, a full out sprint, and finally he turned into a blur.  Lightning crackled around his form, arching over his long limbs.  He loved the satisfying burn that he felt in his legs and his lungs.  Just as he was approaching 1200 mph, a voice spoke through a discreet speaker in the corner of the room.

 

“Yo, Barry, it’s Peter,” he said, “Try not to break Tony’s toy, please.”  This made Barry smile, he wanted to short-circuit the treadmill but he held himself back.  He knew that if he broke it, the treadmill would stop and his momentum would get him launched across the room.  He went at an easy pace, 1000mph, and just let go of his worries for a little.

 

That is until his head felt like it was going to burst.  His speed stuttered for a moment, and then again a few seconds later.  A voice echoed in his mind.  He would know it anywhere.  It was Cisco, trying to contact him.  It never hurt when he was in the Speed Force, and maybe it was because he was surrounded by a force of nature or _whatever_ but all he knew at the moment was that he’s in immense pain.  His legs gave out and he hit the treadmill hard, there was an 'oh jeez!' through the speaker, and he was tossed off of the machine because of his momentum.  His back collided with the wall and knocked the air out of him.  He was aware of the irony, but mostly of his headache.

 

"What the hell," Barry muttered, clutched his head.  He distantly heard Cisco calling out to him, but he couldn’t focus.  He suddenly realized that Wanda had a hand on his shoulder and was asking him something.

 

“What happened?”  Wanda's voice pierces through the loud ringing in his ears.  Barry grunts and squeezes his eyes shut.  The light is suddenly too bright in his eyes.

 

“Not- sure,” he wheezes, “I think my friend is trying to talk to me.”  The headache remained but ebbed slightly.  Wanda's brow crinkled.  “Okay, so don’t jump to any conclusions that end up with me in a straight jacket.  My friend Cisco has a power that allows him to speak to other people in different dimensions.”  They all looked confused, but Barry didn't care.  Cisco was still trying to talk to him.  He could discern some words liked ‘worried’, ‘where’, and ‘please’.  Barry sighed.  “I think he knows I’m not where I’m supposed to be.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many people seem to find the trip to another universe hard to deal with. How surprising.

“He has visions, we call them ‘vibes’,” Barry explained, “But maybe the…the gap between the two dimensions is too large.”  It felt like there was a steel-plated puffer fish rolling around in his head, poking everything, pushing against his skull.  He bit his lip to distract himself.  Tony carefully cupped Barry’s elbow in his hand and pressed the other to the middle of his back.  He let himself be pulled up gently and tried not to chew through his lip.

 

“Well, now I know to have 10 inches of padding around the entire room and maybe not have glass…anywhere.  I'll get Bruce to come and check on you again,”  Tony said.  He looked unaffected externally, but internally he was fretting.  What could cause a speedster to almost pass out in the middle of a super-speed run?  He smothered his worry with sarcasm and snark and hoped the kid wouldn't just drop dead.

 

Tony carefully walked him out of the room and deposited him on the couch he usually collapsed in after a long night of experiments.  Once he was sitting, Barry continued explaining.  “My head started to hurt, worse than a migraine.  Like the time I got whammied.”

 

“What the _heck_ is ‘whammied’?”  Peter asked.

 

Barry waved him off, “That’s not important,” and then rubbed his eyes, “He stopped trying to talk to me.”  An annoying ache was still present behind his eyes.  He rubbed them again vigorously, scrubbed his face and said, “I’ll just-”  He hunched his shoulders reflexively and rubbed his arms.   Wanda stepped toward him slowly and patted his shoulder gently. 

 

“Maybe you should lie down,” she said.  Her voice caught a little.  

 

“Okay,” Barry said weakly and allowed her to lead him back to the common room.  Tony stayed behind to analyze all of the data they got and reassured them that Bruce should be getting there soon.

 

* * *

 

Bruce checked his lungs, tested his reflexes and generally just poked and prodded him.  The diagnosis was, thankfully, physical exhaustion.  "Don't worry about having food to eat, if you couldn't already tell Tony is pretty wealthy.  Eat when your body asks you to because the run from your universe to ours took a lot of energy."  He said, giving a small smile.  “See, Barry, using your speed is like using a muscle.  You pretty much overexerted that muscle when you broke the dimensional barrier, which is thick enough to cause an ‘injury’ to that muscle.   It’s like you pulled that muscle.  Have you ever pulled a muscle, Barry?”

  
“Uh, yeah, I have.”  He had taken track when he was younger, in high school.  The therapists had recommended a sport or some sort of physical way to take out his anger and frustration on.  It had worked until one day he’d run too hard and long and had been unable to do more than hobble around school.  He didn’t run much after that.

 

“Okay.  Did you feel a strain in the lab?”

 

“Yes.  I’ve done something similar before.  It felt the same when I ran after- uh...”  Barry trailed off.  The sensation of running in that lab had been disturbingly familiar.  He’d just now realized that he’d felt the exact same thing after failing to save his mother, when he was trying to unravel the singularity.  It was to a lesser degree back then, though, which was why he’d been successful.

 

“…Alright.  Try not to use your speed for a few days, probably only 3-4 days.  It may take less time because of your healing factor, but since your power isn’t something tangible I may be wrong.”

 

“You might- what’s the possibility of you being wrong?”

 

Bruce hummed.  “50-50,” he smiled.

 

The good news was that the run on the treadmill hadn't worsened matters.  The bad news was that he shouldn’t run at an inhuman rate for a while.  Bruce explained that for the same reason he sweat after running at Flash speeds, he used his muscles just like a normal man would.  So using his speed would put a strain on his muscles that he definitely didn't need.  He didn’t really want to go into detail about how he was afraid that his speed would come only in bursts like it had for his former mentor, Harrison Wells, who was actually Eobard Thawne from the future who was now nonexistent because his best friend’s late boyfriend had shot himself in the heart.

 

Wanda walked him to the room he would be staying in.  Barry sat down heavily on the plain white bed.  Everything in the room was white or chrome, all of the furniture stylish and minimalist.  They were organic shapes, all curves, and no sharp edges.  Even the window corners curved.  The sheets smelled nice and were soft and the pillows were fluffy.  The mattress was memory foam and had a little remote to move half of it up or down.

 

“I will be at the Tower most of the time.  I would like to talk to you about your powers when you can,” Wanda’s smile faltered, “My brother was like you.  Very fast.”  Barry caught the way she said ‘was’ and saw something very familiar in her eyes.

 

“Thank you,”  Barry said.  “For everything.”

 

“It is no problem.”  Wanda nodded to him and then waved goodbye, heading to her own room now.  She closed the door behind him.

 

Barry flopped onto the oh-so-soft comforter and breathed in deeply.  In, out, in out.  In, in, out.  He stopped.  In.  In.  In.  He breathed out, short and sharp.   Inoutinout _inoutinout-_

 

He bit his lip to keep from making too much noise as he crawled under the sheets and curled in on himself.  The weight of the sheets and the contact with the pillow helped a little bit but he still didn’t have a rhythm.  Burying his face in the pillow he gasped and gasped until he felt hot tears wetting the fabric and the skin all around his eyes.  He knew it was bound to happen sometime, had felt it coming all day.  ‘It’ being the months of an unbelievable amount of negative emotions.  Stress, sorrow, disappointment, horror, fear, disgust, and frustration, all of which was because of or related to Hunter Zolomon.  _Zoom_.  Another imposter had gotten the best of him, of his team, his family.  He’d killed Barry’s father just when he’d gotten him back.  He’d broken Caitlin’s heart and he knew she’d never be the same again.

 

Barry’s thoughts whirled in his brain and he felt vaguely nauseated.  _Oh God,_ he thought.  It had just occurred to him that maybe these people really were evil.  Sure, they acted the part but so had “Wells”.  So had “Jay”.  What if they were waiting until he fell asleep to ambush him?  What if the food really was poisoned?

 

What if they were going to kill his family?

 

Barry's nails bit into his palms.

 

* * *

 

Iris resisted the urge to bite her nails as her phone rang.  It was Felicity.

 

“Hi, Felicity.”  She said distractedly.

 

“ _Hey, Iris!  I was just calling to ask if Barry was there.  He isn’t answering his phone.  I’m actually getting a little worried.  Even Oliver is getting his undies in a twist._ ”  Despite the other woman’s light tone, Iris knew she was concerned.  Iris scrubbed her face and sat down on the couch in her father’s home.  She sighed heavily.  “ _Iris?_ ”

 

“I’m sorry, Felicity.  We don’t know where Barry is.”  Her voice caught on his name.

 

“ _What do you mean you don’t know where he is?_ ”  Felicity asked.  Iris could hear faintly in the background what sounded like Oliver.

 

Team Arrow functioned as a wolf pack.  It was simultaneously _very_ endearing and intimidating. 

 

“We haven’t seen him in days, Felicity.  Zoom is dead and there aren’t any metahumans left that we know of.  We don’t _know_ ….”

 

“ _Okay.  Okay.  No reason to panic, right?  I mean, his father was killed, like, 5 days ago or something.  There could be someone else evil out there looking specifically for Barry because that’s just his luck.  Wait- Oh my God-“_ There was some rattling and muffled yelling on the other side of the line.

 

“Felicity?”  Iris cried.

 

“ _Hello, Iris.”_ There was a new voice now.

 

“Hello, Oliver,” she said tiredly.  “You heard all of that, right?”  She pinched the bridge of her nose and held back tears of frustration.  _Ugh.  Goddammit,_ Iris thought.  She’d been crying more than usual this week on account of her mother dying and other such things that could make stronger people crumble.

 

“Yes.  I apologize for Felicity.”  Iris something like a car door slamming and more yelling.  “We’re heading over to STAR Labs.”

 

Iris grimaced.  “You don’t need to-“

 

“I know.”

 

“But?”

 

“I want to.  Barry is family.  We’ll be there soon.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“We’ll find him soon.”

 

“Okay.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry is too young to be this bitter. A few of the Avengers take him shopping. A surprise lurks in the mall for them.

That night, Barry dreamt of death.

 

_Barry stood in a room.  He registered it was blank, but his senses didn’t extend very far.  He smelled something burning and turned around.  It felt like the room was filled with water, muffling everything and keeping his movements from being very smooth, but there wasn’t a drop of liquid anywhere.  In fact, the only thing that occupied the room was him and a deformed figure crumpled on the ground.  He was suddenly aware of a horrible screaming piercing the air.  Hoarse, bloodcurdling words formed out of shrieks._

_“JUST LIKE ME, BARRY ALLEN!”_

_Barry felt nauseated.  The figure on the floor was a gruesome mix of Hunter Zolomon’s face and his Zoom costume.  The fabric melded with flesh and blood poured down over his body.  There was no skin free of the horrible burns and charred skin that was now chipping away, blowing in the wind together with the smoke that appeared out of nowhere.  Barry tried to say something, tried to move, but nothing happened._

_“Why, Barry?  Why did you let him kill me?”_

_He turned again.  To his right was his father, blood pumping from his shredded heart.  Tears poured over his pale gray face like twin waterfalls._

_“You left us, Barry, when we needed you.  And you think we can forgive you that easily?”  Now Cisco, Caitlin, and Iris were to his left.  They looked_ so _angry and disappointed.  The rage on Cisco’s face was disturbing and the chilly glare Caitlin gave him was full of hate.  Iris couldn’t even face him._

_“It’s your fault, Barry.”_

_The room around him vanished, turning into his childhood home.  There stood Eddie Thawne, Bette Sans Soucie, and Ronnie Raymond.  Blood poured from them, too, where their fatal wounds where.  They looked at him with pure loathing in their eyes._

_Barry wanted to say something,_ anything, _but he was physically unable to.  No words escaped him.  He could barely feel his body.  Then, he was suddenly burning, flames licking at his hands and legs.  Heat enveloped his whole body, his brain felt too hot, and a scream bubbled in his throat._

Barry's eyes flew open.  Despite the terrible dream, he awoke silently.  He was sweating buckets and his chest heaved and his heart was beating as if it was making up for lost time.  His limbs were tangled up in the sheets which suddenly felt too thick and heavy.  Bile rose in his throat, but he kept it down and rolled out of bed.  Literally.  He hit the floor with a thud and groaned lowly.  Cold air hit his damp hair and made him shiver but he preferred it over the terrible heat.  He straightened, still laying on the floor, and sighed deeply.  _Right.  Still in an alternate universe,_ Barry thought to himself.  He looked around the room and noticed no light came through the soft gray curtains.  His eyes trailed the slightly darker pattern on the curtains.  He could already feel a headache coming on like a storm.  He rolled over sluggishly to get away from the soft faux-fur rug and squished his cheek against the freezing floor.  It was comforting enough for him to doze off again. 

 

When he awoke again, bright light filtered through the curtains.  The clock read 10 AM, which gave Barry the motivation to actually get off the floor.  He sighed again and slowly got to his feet, and then headed over to the bathroom.  The shower had a variety of buttons with simple little pictures next to them.   _It's too early for this,_  Barry thought, _Too many buttons_.

 

Soon enough he was standing under a stream of hot water, scrubbing at his hair with an expensive shampoo.  _Everything_ in the Tower was expensive.  Even the peach body wash was high-end.  Once he was no longer sticky from sweat and smelled of fresh fruit, he dried himself off with a fluffy towel and…

 

Remembered that he doesn’t have any clothes.  He wrapped the towel around his waist and searched through the closet.  Relief flooded him when he saw that there were sweatpants, a simple shirt, and a sweatshirt for him to wear.  Socks and a pair of sneakers were waiting for him, too.   He steeled his nerves and turned the knob.  Instead of finding a crowd of super-humans/assassins staring at him, all he saw was an empty living room.  And more importantly, a coffee machine. 

 

Like everything else in the building the coffee machine was sleek and looked _way_ too advanced.  It reminded Barry of the shower because this, too, had buttons all over it.  One was to add a vanilla shot; another was for extra caffeine.  He felt awkward wandering around the spacious kitchen, opening cabinets as quietly as possible and looking for the coffee grinds.  When he _did_ find the coffee grinds, his eyes widened comically.  There were three large cabinets full of different types of coffee grinds.  Some were foreign or extra dark roast or had ingredients that didn’t really make sense.  At this point, Barry felt like nothing made sense.  The sight of unfamiliar coffee brands upset him more than he thought it would.

 

He hesitantly grabbed the simplest looking one and almost sighed in relief when it was a simple roast.  Soon enough he was patiently waiting for coffee and wondering about the day blearily.  Now that the morning rush of energy (it was really just willpower) had faded away, he was wondering if he should just go back to bed.  Then all thoughts of sleep vanished, replaced with thoughts of his family.  Homesickness gripped his chest tightly and left him feeling cold in this strange place he was in.

 

 _Ding!_   The coffee maker blinked up at him.  He thought about how uncaring it looked.  He also thought he needed more sleep.  His mug was filled with steaming coffee.  

 

As he was chugging from his mug, someone’s voice startled him, “Good morning, Mi- ah, Barry.”  He breathed in sharply, making the hot beverage shoot up into his nose. 

 

“Ah!  Oh God, hot- coffee so hot-”  He hissed, grabbing his nose and scrunching it up in pain.  He turned quickly and saw that Wanda had snuck up on him.  She was obviously holding back full-blown laughter, but to Barry’s relief, she only let a few stray giggles through her hands.  “Ow,” he groaned, which then prompted her giggles to stop.

 

“Oh, I am so sorry,” she said, frantically looking around for napkins.  Barry, who’d stumbled upon the napkins, waved off her apology and cleaned the coffee off of his hands and face.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Barry said with a lopsided smile. 

 

Wanda smiles back at him.  It wasn't a big smile, but her face had brightened.  It reminded him of Caitlin, but then again the coffee maker reminded him of Cisco and the fruit on the counter reminded him of Iris.  He looked down at his half-empty mug for a second and tried to clear his mind.  When he looked back up, Wanda was looking at him with a bit of curiosity.  Barry braced himself for an invasive question.

 

“Did you sleep well?”  Wanda asked politely.

 

Barry hesitated for a moment, “Yeah.”  He fought back a wince at how blatantly he was lying and sipped his cooling coffee.

 

“Tony told me to take you shopping,” she said, which made Barry look up, “And I believe that Peter would like to accompany you.  He is very interested in your powers.  I will come along.”  Her nails clicked on the kitchen counter pleasantly and she hummed thoughtfully.  “The others are busy or do not like leaving the Tower, with some exceptions.  Scott is also excited to ask you about your speed.”  She cleared her throat, and the muscles in her jaw clenched for a moment.  "I will keep an eye on you, and the man-child."

 

"Oh, wow, you don't need to- I mean- these days clothes cost so much and I just- I can't use your money..."  Barry trailed off after his stuttering and realized that the building he was in had over 30 floors and belonged to one man.

 

"I do not believe you want to spend your time here, however long, in the gray sweatpants and shirts that Tony put minimal effort into buying."  With her logic and rolled r's and smooth confidence, Barry had nothing go say.  A small pause stretched.

 

"Which one is the man-child again?"

 

"The man that wears a motorcycle suit for a costume and calls himself Ant-Man."

 

Barry huffed out a laugh.  These people just seemed sohuman.  _Like Hunter,_ a voice in the back of his head whispered.  His expression became guarded and cold at that connection and his shoulders tensed.  He put the mug down slowly.  Honestly, he didn’t want to have to intimate or do anything other than friendly to Wanda, but these people needed to understand he would fight if need be.

 

“Wanda,” Barry said lowly, “You would tell me if the others had…bad intentions?”  His eyes moved slowly and deliberately to her, staring intently at her out of the corner of his eye. 

 

Wanda stiffened.  

 

(The way the speedster had switched between personalities had almost given her whiplash.  Now he was giving off a sort of mental barrier that felt incredibly similar to broken glass.  It was as if his shattered trust had manifested in his subconscious.  In fact, it was probably conscious the way his dark mood seemed to seem into the surrounding area, making her want to take 10 large steps away from him.)

 

Barry regarded the witch coldly for a moment longer.  He pushed off the counter and swiped his mug at the same time, depositing it in the sink swiftly.  He wanted to use his super speed, but Dr. Banner's words rang in his mind.

 

He held his hand up and vibrated it slightly.  He winced when a feeling of strain and dull pain emanated from his appendage and a spot right in the middle of his chest.

 

Wanda still hadn’t spoken.  He took that as an answer.  She was loyal to her team, which may or may not have wicked plans in store for him that may or may not include a vivisection.  He was about to take a chance and speed his way through the foreign city and hope for the best when he turned to her and saw her squared shoulders.

 

She spoke softly, “We do not have any intentions other than to help you get home.”

 

“And I should trust you.”  His question was more of a statement.  Hunter Zolomon’s face was burned into his mind.  Anger filled him to the brim.  It felt like rage was radiating off him, pulsing out violently. 

 

Wanda nodded firmly and said, “That is up to you, Barry Allen.”

 

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut.  Silence buzzed in his ears as they waited in a stalemate.  It was obvious neither one felt like anything they could say would be appropriate, or would truly express what they felt.  In fact, Barry was torn between that as well.  Acting like he trusted them and saying nothing would prevent him from being surprised when ( _If,_ a quieter voice said) the other shoe dropped and they tried to strap him down to a metal table.  However, Wanda was exuding honesty, looking him in the eye.  If he really did let himself trust them, then he may be able to get home a lot faster than he could alone.

 

Barry’s shoulders fell.  He clamped down on his emotions and the white-hot anger cooled down into a sort of stale sadness and emotional exhaustion.  He was silent as he kept walking to the couch.  He sat down heavily, elbows digging into his knees and hands covering his face.  His bones felt like they were made out of lead, it felt as though gravity was weighing down on him twice as much.  A headache was building in his head, pressing against his skull and sinuses.  Barry sighed heavily.

 

“I don’t know,” he said bluntly.  “Wanda- You just- You sound like a good person.  You _sound_ like you’re telling the truth.”

 

“What is the problem, then?”  She asked, not unkindly.

 

Barry stood suddenly at that, turning to her sharply.  “The _problem_ is that so did he!  _He_ acted like a human being, a good one, and he-“  Barry’s eyebrows drew together and he snarled, “And now my father is dead.  So I don’t know, Wanda.  I don’t.”

 

Wanda breathed in and approached him slowly.  “I am truly sorry about what happened to you.  We don’t want to harm you.  None of us do.  You’re _safe_ here.”

 

“Oh, I’ve heard that before,” Barry said bitterly. 

 

"These are not just pretty words.  I have been in your situation before.  I nearly killed some of the people that took me in and made me a part of their family.

 

"If I am lying, you need not worry about my intentions, correct?  None of the Avengers are speedsters.  We are putting our trust in you, believing that you will not harm us with your super-speed.  None of us would be able to stop you, but we are letting you into our home.  You have full control of the situation.”  Barry’s shoulders relaxed.  He turned fully toward her.

 

Barry's thoughts whirled around his mind.  He saw no flaws in her logic, and he breathed for a moment.  The Speed under his skin smoothed over, and so did his emotions.  "Then, will you take me shopping?"

 

* * *

 

Barry was, oddly enough, having a fun time.

_Firstly._   Despite having been bitten by a radioactive spider when he was 17 and having to be a superhero labeled vigilante for three years, Peter Parker could still smile easily.  He obviously had gone through a lot because he’s a young hero and one of the accidental requirements was emotional unbalance, terrible coping mechanisms, and the perpetual inability to smile genuinely.  Yet the youngest Avenger was still incredibly charming with his blushing and rambles about science that made Barry’s head spin.  He bounced on the balls of his feet and sometimes walked too fast in front of their little rag-tag group and had to circle back, but instead of getting back to their group he just ended up circling around them.  He was refreshingly similar to a puppy.

 

The second thing that was knocking Barry off-kilter was the fact that he was walking through the mall with super-powered people and nothing terrible had happened for hours.  He realized that it sounded like the set up for a silly joke.  “Half the Avengers and one speedster were walking down the street…”

  

Barry swiveled his head around and tried to take in all of the mall sights.  There were no big differences between the malls in this universe and his own.  There were small fountains, a variety of stores, elevators, and the smell of junk food mingling with the pungent odor of soaps and lotions wafting from the store next to the entrance.  Families roamed around and Barry could see nuclear families with either well behaved or screaming children, but he could also spot younger couples and groups of teens laughing and smiling.  The atmosphere was friendly and energetic which made Barry feel a lot better than how he did in the morning. 

 

“Let’s get you some clothes first,” Scott said, “And then we can walk around to see if you need anything else.”  Barry nodded, so the group headed over to the store Scott suggested and spent at least two hours there.  A good portion of it was Barry fretting over how expensive something was and the rest of their small group trying to convince him that the only thing that was even a little questionably expensive was the entire mall.  In the end, Barry had two armfuls of bags with new clothes. 

 

“Let’s go get ice cream,” Peter said cheerfully.  

 

“Not Baskin Robbins though,” Scott muttered.  Eyebrows were raised in his direction.  “Baskin Robbins always finds out,” he said solemnly. 

 

“Um….okay.  No Baskin Robbins.”  Peter patted Scott’s shoulder.  “We’ll just go to Ben & Jerry’s.” 

 

Soon enough, they’d all gotten their cold treats.  Peter got New York Super Fudge Chunk, Wanda got Chocolate Macadamia, Scott got From Russia with Buzz, and Barry got Coffee Coffee BuzzBuzzBuzz.* Despite his odd company, there was a sense of normalcy that made him feel so much lighter.  He could easily blend in with these people; just as easily as when he went down the block with Cisco and Caitlin to have a drink.

 

Barry’s eyes darkened, but his smile stayed in place.  Thinking of them made his heart ache with a homesickness he’d only felt when trapped in Earth-2 with the threat of Zoom hanging over his head.  At least now he didn’t have to worry about power-hungry murderers trying to kill him.

 

Just as he finished that thought, the lights were switched off and everything went to hell.  Seconds after the confused murmuring of the other families started, an announcement was made.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am not sorry for the inconvenience.   All of you are going to place all of your valuables in the middle of whatever wing of the mall you’re in.  If you resist, the entire building will come down,” the announcer said.

 

Peter smacked his hand to his forehead.  “Dear God, why,” he groaned lowly.  “I recognize that voice.  It’s Electro.”

 

“The one with the electricity?”  Scott asked. 

 

“No, actually, the one with the vulture costume- of course it's the one with electricity!”

 

Wanda nodded curtly now and turned to look at the rest of the team.  “Be ready for a fight.  Peter - go change, take Scott with you.  Barry do  _not_  use your powers under any circumstance, clear?”

 

“But-“  Barry tried.

 

“ _Clear?_ ”

 

“Crystal.”  He said quickly.  Of course, he only said that because she was giving him a look that screamed, ' _Test me'_.  He would absolutely use his powers to help; he couldn’t just sit around while these people fought for him.   So, for now, he had to comply, and when the threat made itself known, he’d take it out.  Seeing as he was the fastest man alive it only made sense that he take on the baddie.  He could _defeat_ whoever 'Electro' was in a millionth of a second.  That is if his opponent wasn’t another sociopathic speedster because then he’d have to go through the obligatory near-death experience and the loss of someone incredibly close to him.

 

Barry acknowledges that he is bitter and doesn’t give a fuck.

 

“Good.  Your speed is not to be seen in such a public place.  Peter and I will have to battle, while you and Scott are on stand-by.  If you must, call for back-up.  Otherwise, stay low and out of sight.”  Wanda nodded to Scott and Peter, who had returned.  It was hard to see in the dark, but the bright blue and red of Peter's suit stood out.

 

“Yes, ma’am!”  Scott said, saluting.  He grinned as Wanda smacked him upside the head, and then grabbed Barry’s wrist, leading him to the shop closest to them.  There were many people stuffed into it and Barry could feel the fear radiating off of them.  Lightning sparked in his eyes.  

 

That was when the doors of the store they were in exploded.

 

Bits of rubble flew across the air and skidded across the floor.  Smoke and dust billowed out, and in the middle of it, a dark figure appeared.  It was holding another, slimmer figure, which was then thrown in the direction of the little store.  The smaller body smashed into Scott and sent them both into the wall behind them.  Barry stayed facing the other figure and tried to peer through the thinning smoke.

 

“Spider-Man!”  Wanda cried she had a long scarf wrapped around the bottom of her face.  Barry turned back and saw that the body was actually Peter and that he was unconscious and bleeding already.  “Look out!”  She said quickly.

 

By now, the dust had cleared and Electro was visible.  He was grinning at them.

 

“Honestly, a woman and a child trying to take me down.  Maybe I should up the ante and go straight to the Avengers.”

 

“Barry,” Scarlet Witch hissed, “Do not!”

 

“Please don’t kill me later,” Barry muttered.  He then leaped out toward Electro and said, “You can’t go against the Avengers if a simple guy like me can take you, right?”

 

The villain barked out a laugh and thrust his hand out toward Barry, making blue lightning spark out toward him.  He flattened himself to the ground just in time for the lightning to arch over the screaming crowd.  He lunged up and sprinted in the direction of the currently shut down escalator.  Barry took three steps at a time and ducked as another spear of lightning crackled through the air at his turned back.  Finally, he reached a deserted area and whipped around to face Electro with a smirk on his face.

 

“I’m not really that much of a simple guy, to be honest.”  After multiple burning shoe incidents, Barry knew it was better to discard them early on in a fight rather than get embarrassed and keep them on, which later burned his feet terribly and caused more pain than necessary.  So he quickly tossed his shoes to the side and held back laughter at Electro’s baffled face, and darted forward with super-speed, landing 3 punches in the span of 1 second.  The strain was still there, odd and stifling and bordering on painful, but he powered through and spun Electro around until he literally slipped from his fingers and he smashed into a wall. 

 

“W-What the hell?!”  Electro yelled, getting up on his hands and knees.  “What are you, you freak!  A demon!”

 

“Um, you shouldn't really be saying that, 'Electro'."

 

“I use _machines!_   You aren’t _human!_ ”

 

“I’m more human than you, threatening a mall full of innocent people,”  Barry said lowly.  He sped over and kept his body vibrating and his voice distorted to add to the fear shining in Electro’s eyes.  “Don’t ever hurt another soul and maybe I won’t go after you.  Maybe.”  He grabbed a fistful of the villain’s ridiculous costume and punched him a couple more times for good measure, his vibrating hand breaking his nose and causing some smoke to curl off of his now burned and raw skin.

 

He reared his fist back for one more punch when his entire world when pain exploded throughout his whole body.  He was vaguely aware of what seemed like a never-ending scream ripping through his throat.  It felt disturbingly similar to that night in the lab when he gained his speed.  This time he had the pleasure of staying awake through the whole thing and after so that he fell to his knees and let go of Electro.

 

“Had one more trick up my sleeve,” Electro said, and then slumped back.  Barry staggered to his feet, trying to get back to the others and fell back down.  There was a terrible buzzing in his body and smoke was now drifting off of him, too, mostly from his palm and left collarbone.  His heart felt like it was beating too fast and too hard for it to be healthy, even for a speedster.  He gasped and wheezed, trying to get air back in his lungs, and blacked out.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers are charming in the way that puppies can be cute-ugly. They get Barry drunk.

It was difficult to sort through all of the information Barry’s senses were trying taking in, all of it was jumbled so he could only get a vague understanding of his surroundings.  He was lying somewhere soft, and his clothes were equally soft.  Sheets or blankets were covering most of his body, up to somewhere around his elbows.  It was very quiet wherever he was, but there was muffled talking was floating in from somewhere else. 

 

His eyelids felt like they were weighed down with lead and it took a frustrating amount of concentration to open them.  Once they were open, he had to blink to get used to the darkness surrounding him.  His head felt like it was detached from his body, floating around, keeping the rest of him numb.  Barry tried to get his arm moving and drag the sheets off of him, but all he did was twitch his fingers.  He squeezed his eyes shut and focused hard on moving his sore muscles.  His feet moved around a bit and he could finally lift his arms up just enough for the sheets to slide off of them.  Along with the movement came a sharp groan, pain shooting along his joints like little electric shocks.

 

 _Great,_ Barry thought.  He now remembered what had happened back in the mall and instantly tried to sit up as fast as possible.  Emphasis on ‘tried’.  In reality, he ended up barely getting his torso off of the mattress and instead flopped onto his side.  He huffed out a breath of frustration.  When he had been lying down, the dull pain in the rest of his muscles had remained dormant but with the panicked attempt at sitting up, it exploded through his back and core.

 

Regardless of the discomfort, he wanted to see if the others were okay.  He _needed_ to know that Wanda, Scott, and Peter were okay.  He may be a bitter and paranoid man, but these people were trying to get him home.  Thankfully for him, his enhanced healing had been working valiantly while he had slept - however long that was - so the pain was already ebbing.  The last of it came because of the sudden change from dormant to active. 

 

“Mmph,” Barry lifted himself off of the bed, slowly this time, and staggered over to the door.  The exertion caused some pressure to form behind his eyes and black spots to creep in at the edges of his vision.  He stopped for a moment and breathed deeply, chasing away the darkness, and then opened up the door and hobbled out.  His muscles were still too tense, making it hard to move as quickly or smoothly as he’d like to.  As he stepped out into the common area, he was greeted by too-bright lights and sharp pain behind his eyes.  His hand came up to block the offensive light and he scrunched up his face as a reflex.  Once Barry could see, he made his way over to the couch and took into account who was sitting on it as well.  Tony, Matt, and Bruce were all lounging on the long couch that curved around the table in the middle of the room.

 

“Good evening, Sleeping Beauty!”  Tony said with fake brightness. 

 

“Ugh- Keep it down, please.  Just- Just shhh.”   The speedster said and waved a hand at the man.  “Maybe dim the lights…or turn them off.”

 

“Fine, fine,” Tony said, this time much quieter.

 

“What time is it?”  Barry asked.  By now the headache had faded away fairly quickly, so it only left the tightness in his muscles to bother him.  "And how are Wanda and Peter?"

 

“Half past midnight.  They're fine, just sleeping.  Scott is...working through some things,”  Bruce told him.  

 

"He brought vodka up to his room," Tony added.

 

"Yeah."  He stood and walked over to Barry now, “How are you feeling?”

 

“Like I got shot with arrows again,” he said and then muttered under his breath, “Or went back in time…again.”  Eyebrows were raised.  Matt choked on what seemed to be straight liquor.

 

“How the hell do you know what getting shot with _arrows_ is like?”  Tony asked incredulously.

 

“I have an archer friend back in my universe,” Barry dismissed.  However, his slight smile quickly melted off when Bruce leveled him with an annoyed glare.

 

“Barry, you know why you feel so tired and why your muscles are no doubt hurting?”  The scientist’s question was entirely rhetorical, obviously, but Barry didn’t want to just sit there like a child being chastised for sticking his hand in the cookie jar.

 

“Because…I worked out…a lot.  Pumped some iron yesterday.  I did not use my speed to fight.  Nope.”  A bit of homesickness filled him when he realized he sounded so much like Felicity right now.  He kept his focus on the doctor before him and watched as the corners of his lips twitched like he didn’t know whether to frown or smile.

 

“Because you went against your doctor’s very specific orders and strained yourself, that’s why.”    Barry noticed the way the others were edging away from them and swallowed nervously.  “If you pull something like that again, a headache won’t be the least of your troubles,” he said gruffly, “But at least you didn’t do too much damage.”

 

“Goodie,” Tony swiped his pad a few times.  “Once you’re in top condition we’re definitely running some tests.  Peter wants to know if he should fanboy over your powers or be horribly disappointed.”

 

“Uh, sure, Tony.  Anything for my fans.”  Barry joked, expertly hiding the suspicion that came with the word ‘tests’ and leaned back into the cushions with yet another small groan.  He felt like an old man limping around and moving much too slow for a speedster.  “So what are you all doing up?”

 

“I don’t need sleep,” Tony said, tilting his nose up.

 

“Yes he does,” Bruce said casually, “Tony had too much coffee earlier and Matt…does not sleep.  He needs to, but he just doesn't.”

 

“Don’t act innocent, Bruce, you did too.  And I don't need sleep.”  He whined.

 

Matt rubbed at a bruise on his arm and quietly said, “I sleep.”

 

“Only on occasion!   It’s like some sort of holiday,” Tony frowned at him.  “It's like- ’Everyone, come gather around the fireplace and exchange gifts, Matt Murdock _slept!_ ’”  Matt tilted his head innocently at the scientist.

 

“I sleep,” he repeated lightly, “Just not at night.  And I have my firm during the day, but I do nap.  That's like sleeping.”  Bruce mumbled something about idiots and organs.

 

“Hey, I thought you said you have patrol at night?”  Barry asked suddenly.  He knew something was off, but he hadn’t been able to put his finger on it.

 

“I made a deal with the Punisher.  If he doesn’t kill anyone he can beat up the baddies tonight.”

 

“You make some weird friends, Matt,”  Bruce said.

 

“He's not my friend," Matt sniffed.

 

“Fighting buddy- whatever.  I saw you giving him those good coffee grinds.  Anyway, onto more pressing matters.  Barry, you can’t get drunk, can you?”  Tony asked.  Barry reeled slightly from the quick banter and sudden change of topic.  He sighs and shakes his head.

 

“My drinking days are over.  I’m at the ripe old age of 25, I should save my perfectly healthy liver while I can.”  He said, sounding slightly bitter.

 

“Well, fear no more.  The reason I drank coffee earlier was that I was coming up with a mixture to get a guy like you shit-faced.  And I wanted a 'good reason' to get drunk.”  Tony used air quotes generously.

 

Matt’s smirk was like a shark’s, “Trying to get into his pants, Tony?  He’s barely legal.”

 

“I don’t screw puppies, you should know that about me by now, Matt.”  Tony’s grin was just as sharp as he ignored Barry blushing and stuttering.  “I just wanted an excuse to get drunk past midnight.”

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, a drunken Barry meant a hungry Barry that started to stumble around making peanut butter and jam sandwiches and attempting to serve himself milk to wash it down.  Bruce was the designated ‘make sure you don’t go out into the night to fight someone’ person for the group, although it was more like ‘make sure Barry doesn’t cut off his fingers as he makes many, many sandwiches’.

 

“Makin’ PB and J sam- samwichess,” Barry hummed and slurred a song he’d made up five minutes ago.  He licked the peach jam off of his fingers and glared at Bruce.  “With _stupid_ crust.”

 

“He can’t hold his alcohol very well,”  Matt commented, nursing his third cup of scotch. 

 

Tony hummed and sipped his fifth, having built up a resistance, “I think it’s just the fact that he drank enough to get alcohol poisoning to three beefy men.  And, yes, I calculated.”

 

“Why _beefy_ men?  Why not regular men?  Were they on your mind?”  Bruce asked airily.

 

“What is with assassins and making jokes about my sex life?  I just thought it’d be easier to say than 4 and one half scrawny men!”  He grimaced and then laughed at Barry’s petulant pout.  He was stuffing his face with another sandwich, this time chunky peanut butter and raspberry jam.  There were all types of the sweet stuff on his cheeks, nose, and somehow on his forehead and tip of his ears.  He looked like a toddler had raided a kitchen on a sugar high.

 

“Is- Is he pouting?”  A smile spread slowly across Matt’s face now.

 

“Nah,” Barry said with as much sarcasm as he could muster, “’m _so_ happy tha’ I need tah eat my sandy'ches with _crust_.”  Now he angled his drunken glare at Bruce.

 

“Barry, if you used a knife to cut off the crusts you’d end up cutting off all of your fingers.  You didn’t let any of us do it, either,” Bruce tried to reason with him and attempted to sound stern but was failing, smiling softly at the young hero. 

 

“I can do it,” Barry grumbled, but he couldn’t help smile when the sweetness of the jam hit his tongue.  It was dazzling and bright like the sun, even though he was drunk out of his mind.  “Mmm…’m a good cook!”

 

“I don't think that counts as cooking,” Tony said.  Barry glared at him which prompted him to say, “Okay, you’re a good cook.”  His smile grew when Barry muttered ‘25’.

 

They spent the rest of the night listening to Barry ramble on about how he loved his friends and talk about ‘Cissi’, ‘Cait’, Joe, Iris, and ‘Walls’.  Matt had excused himself to go ‘sleep’ which prompted Tony to say that he was just going to lie in bed in the dark until morning.  Tony became steadily more incoherent, but because he had built up a resistance to alcohol, he managed to keep himself together for the most part.  At least, more so than Barry did, who gushed over his family for quite a long time.  It was obvious by the end of the night that he would do anything for them, and if possible he became even more charming.

 

Wanda joined them a little while after Matt retreated to his room. 

 

“How long do you think he’ll have a hangover?”  Wanda asked from where she sat next to Tony.  

 

“Probably an hour or two,”  Bruce responded.  "The worst of his physical injuries are gone.  He's lucky to have his speed healing."

   
"His physical injuries," Wanda hummed thoughtfully.  "How is he mentally?"

 

"Intoxicated, he's open to a certain extent.  It's a huge change from how closed off he is sober.  I recognize the paranoia he seems to possess, the way he looks around a room to analyze it.  The way he seems ready to run at any moment.  Looks like post-traumatic stress disorder- PTSD for short.  I'm not entirely sure."

 

"And that is mental, correct?  It cannot be cured."

 

"No," he said simply, "But he can recover.  With time."

 

Barry noticed the two of them staring at him intently and grinned widely at them, hiccupping.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry ponders about himself.

“You know, I can probably just be drunk 24/7 and I’ll be fine.  I can’t die of alcohol poisoning, right?”  Barry said in a low voice, his head resting on his arms.  He was wearing jogger sweatpants and a big, soft hoodie with the hood up and the strings pulled taut to only his nose peaked out of the cloth.  Under the hood, his face was paler than usual and his eyes bloodshot.  “Even if I do, it’s better than a hangover.”

 

“Oh, shut up you big baby.  You’ll only have it for another half hour anyway.”  Tony grumbled.  This was pretty much Tony’s morning routine by now and Matt could hide his discomfort easily.  Clint sat with a smug smirk and a black eye.

 

The aforementioned heroes were all sitting around the island in the kitchen and had originally been crowding around Tony’s phone to watch videos of Barry in his drunken glory, but the light from the device became too harsh for them and they were now munching on Pop Tarts.

 

Speaking of which, “Why do you have so many of these?”  Barry asked, waving around his cinnamon pastry. 

 

“I honestly think it would be easier to show you, rather than try to explain,” Matt said cryptically.  “Unfortunately, Thor isn’t here.”  He smirked when Barry stopped chewing his Pop Tart.

 

Clint spoke past a full mouth, "Also 'cuz they're good." 

 

Barry's initial thoughts about the man were that he was a dark and brooding spy.  He seemed to be snarky and reasonably sarcastic though, which also threw him off.  He was the perfect counterpart to the other spy - Natasha.  She was definitely what Barry expected from a professional spy that worked for an agency called SHIELD.  She had a sharp tongue and quick wit and also looked like she could kill Barry in 10 different ways with only a fork.

 

“Whatever, I’m too hung over for this,” he muttered, then stuffed the rest of the pastry in his mouth and moved on to his 27th.  It was at this moment that Natasha strode into the common area and slipped into the stool next to Barry’s and silently grabbed a Pop Tart out of the large box in the middle of the counter.  “Mornin’.”  The speedster grumbled and sat up now, the headache lessening from piercing to a persistent throb against his skull.  He took a moment to appreciate the overcast sky; dark gray clouds were rolling in and replacing the lighter ones quickly.  He then ignored the cold feeling in his stomach and turned his attention back to the others.

 

“I reported to Fury after the attack by Electro.  He’s locked up and won’t be getting out any time soon,” Natasha said.

 

“We should tell Peter,” Tony decided and brushed the crumbs off of his hands.

 

“Tell me what?”  Peter mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he made a beeline to the coffee pot sitting on the counter.  He was in his pajamas and still had bed hair, but the odd assortment of scars that littered his arms upset the image of young innocence.  Barry wondered idly how his own arms would look if it weren’t for his quick healing.  He had some faint scars from the bullying from his earlier years.  His fingers unconsciously drifted across the part of his hoodie he knew covered a patch of skin that was a significantly lighter tone.  Flashes of Leonard Snart’s smug face made his brow drop in annoyance, but he pushed away the thought and focused on Peter again.

 

Barry watched with drooping eyes as the younger man poured himself some coffee.

 

“Electro has been taken care of,” Natasha said, “Fury’s got him.”

 

As Peter prepared his coffee, Barry closed his eyes and listened, resting his face on his arms again.  He kept one ear in the open and one foot on the ground, though.  There could be an emergency at any moment.  _These people could actually be working for a big baddie; I sure do have experience with that,_ a voice in the back of his mind whispered _._ His brain helpfully provided images of his mentors; horribly bitter anger curled in his stomach.  Even as he was surrounded by the warm and domestic morning routine of the heroes, he could feel it building and bubbling.

 

“I _almost_ feel bad.  Sort of.  This,” Peter must have pointed to a new cut, “Is going to scar, so actually, I feel pretty good about it.”  He spoke lightly and casually but there was an undertone of spite.  “Couldn’t he have at least grabbed my left hand?  I need to do my homework.”  Barry heard Tony snicker and then the muffled sound of Peter smacking the two on the arm.

 

The resulting sound was comically loud, but was drowned out by the rumbling thunder that followed a vein of lightning.  Suddenly Barry was gone and his stool was spinning around wildly, a gush of wind following in his wake.  Napkins and Pop Tart wrappers flew off of the counter and billowed around the stunned heroes.

 

“Was it something I said?”  Peter asked, giving a nervous chuckle.

 

* * *

 

Barry paced around his room, glancing at the wall made of glass.  The sight of the lightning outside reminded him of the night his mother was killed.  But at the same time, it made him think of his own lightning and of the Speed Force.  Fear and comfort flooded his chest like oil and water.  A faint feeling of nausea made his jaw twinge and hands shake.  He remembered the pure terror when he saw the streaks of light race around his living room.  In his mind, he saw his mother’s blank eyes and bloodless face under the plastic sheet.  Barry could almost feel his father’s sticky blood on his hands again, but the bile rising in his throat was real.

 

Barry sat down heavily in the bathroom, leaning against his sink.  He was determined not to throw up but being near the toilet made him feel slightly better.  His thoughts swirled around his mind. Regret, homesickness, and doubt crashed together to create a knot of stress and anxiety in his chest and worsen his pounding headache.  He felt hollow and shaky, anxiety buzzing under his skin.  He didn’t feel like Central City’s hero.  Like he didn’t _deserve_ to be the Flash.

 

He made rash decisions when angry.  He let so many people die.  It was because of Barry that a _freak black hole_ opened up and damn near swallowed up his city and its people.  He couldn’t even make smart decisions for himself, for his family.

 

Barry, in all honesty, had made a terrible mistake back on his porch.  He had been fueled by denial; he had been drowning in despair when it had sunk in that he is an orphan.  Now he was going through the rollercoaster that is grief.  He could feel a profound rage directed at Eobard Thawne, Hunter Zolomon, and himself.  His former mentors had built up a trust and had taken advantage of it, and with their combined efforts had killed the two people that had brought him into the world.  And worse, Barry had _fallen_ for it.  It was enough to make any normal person lose a few of their marbles, but to add to the problem, Barry never had enough time to sort through his emotions in a healthy manner.

 

For example, the death of his father.  That was the most recent blow to his mental stability, especially because he knew he could do something about it.  In fact, he believed that he could’ve done something to save _everyone_ that died around him- because of him.  He could’ve saved Bette, Eddie, Ronnie, the countless lives lost during the singularity.  They could have been saved if he had just been faster, _better_.  Henry Allen had been mere feet away from him when the hand had vibrated through his heart.  If Barry had just looked around a little more and used his common sense, he could have stopped the bullet from killing Bette.  Iris could have had a happy life with Eddie if Barry wasn’t so _weak_ and _selfish_.  His actions caused the singularity that killed Ronnie, hurt Dr. Stein, and hundreds of other innocent Central City citizens.  

 

Even worse, it had taken Barry _14 years_ to get over the death of his mother and he didn’t even have super-speed for most of that time.  He hadn't been a hero with lives in his hands.  So it was safe to say that now that he has the weight of responsibility on his shoulders and even deeper psychological issues, dealing with grief would be even more complicated.

 

Barry’s train of thought stopped in its tracks.  In this universe, there was an overabundance of heroes that protect the world.  There may be even _more_ well-meaning and powerful people out there.  He didn’t need to use his powers to fight evil - it wasn’t necessary.  For the first time in a long, long while, Barry felt like his shoulders were free of a painful weight.  He’d been carrying it around ever since Clyde Mardon had decided to play God in his city.  His nausea ebbed and the knot in his chest unraveled slightly.

 

Lying down on the bed, Barry ran his fingers through his hair.  The Avengers were strong enough to not need his help on a daily basis, or maybe at all, so Barry could be a normal 26-year-old and go about his life like he would before the particle accelerator.  Relief flooded him, refreshing and hopeful.  He knew it would take a while to heal and maybe he would never be completely okay, but he would be better.  But...

 

Barry had a responsibility.  He had these amazing powers and could do things no one else could.  He was fast enough to save lives, and if he didn't use his powers to do that...what kind of a hero would he be?

 

What kind of a man would he be?

 

The knot in his chest returned.

 

* * *

 

Caitlin and Cisco had pretty much moved into Star Labs by now, trying to contact Barry.  The first time had been a disaster.  Cisco had felt Barry’s pain like a separate entity but he had access to it.  When he reached out with his mind, Cisco could feel the homesickness flow from the speedster’s mind like a crack in a dam. 

 

The two scientists had been working together non-stop to adjust the Vibe goggles somehow to try again for two days.  They were tired and hungry and _missed Barry_ , which was why what happened next was both a blessing and a curse.

 

The monitors in the middle of the Cortex alerted the pair that the elevator was activated.  Caitlin wordlessly walked over, pressing her fingers to her temple.

 

“Oh, my...” her eyes widened.  “Cisco!  Come look at this...”

 

“What?  Why?  I’m almost there.”  Cisco waved his hand at her, which she took advantage of, tugging on his arm until he tumbled out of his chair and toward the computers.  “What the hell?”  Felicity, Oliver, Diggle were bunched into the elevator along with a couple suitcases. 

 

Oliver looked up at the camera and winked.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry thinks he needs to get better at repressing emotions. Peter makes him play Monopoly.

“Call the police!  Call- um, call national security, I don’t know.  Just _stop_ the elevator!”  Cisco yelled, pacing away from the computer.  He ran a hand through his hair and turned back to Caitlin.

 

“Cisco, calm down, okay?  We’ll just ask about the suitcases and see if they-“  Caitlin was interrupted by the sound of voices in the hallway.

 

“This place is like a prison.  All grey walls. They need some plants!”  Felicity walked into the Cortex first with Oliver and Diggle trailing behind her.

 

“Barry would knock them over, Felicity.”  Oliver said.

 

“Not if we bolt them to the ground,” she reasoned, “Hey Cisco, Caitlin.”  Felicity gave the two of them a smile.

 

They stared at the other team incredulously.

 

“It’s nice to see you guys again,” Felicity gave Caitlin and Cisco a hug and a peck on the cheek.

 

“Oh, yeah, it’s lovely to see you guys.  _What are you doing here?”_  Cisco’s voice squeaked as his volume rose hysterically.  He gave the trio an exaggerated look of interest; his eyebrows neared his hairline. 

 

“She moving in,” Oliver answered, “To help you find Barry.”  He smiled widely as he patted a suitcase for emphasis.  “Where can they unpack?”

 

Caitlin sighed, “Guys, no.  You don’t need to do this.  Even if there was space in STAR Labs, you have Starling City to look after.”  She shook her head and rubbed her eyes.  The stress of trying to find Barry and trying to prepare for the flood of villains left in the wake of the Flash’s absence at the same time was more than enough for the both of them.  As an added bonus, Caitlin was mourning the loss and betrayal of yet another man she’d fallen for.  Headaches were common these days.

 

“We _want_ to do this, Caitlin.  Barry is our friend.”  Felicity’s smile dropped and her expression was dead serious.  “I’ll stay in communication with Oliver.  He’s got Dig to help him.  You two need help, and a _break_.  We know you’ve been working for days now.  You need to rest up so that you can work more efficiently.”  

 

“Felicity-“

 

“There’s no way this can hurt you or your efforts to find Barry.”  Oliver said, his 'Arrow voice' creeping into his words.

 

The two looked at each other for a moment, a silent conversation passing between them. 

 

“Fine,” Cisco relented.  He looked annoyed but in reality he was incredibly relieved.  He was exhausted and his eyes burned after staring a screen for so long.  He knew that Caitlin’s hands were beginning to be less steady and bags were started to form under her eyes.

 

“Oh, good!”  Felicity clapped her hands and the tension bled away slightly.  “But seriously, where can I unpack?”

 

Things were going annoyingly well now that Felicity and Laurel were helping out.  Cisco and Caitlin would _not_ admit to that, though.  It didn’t matter, though.  With the combined help of the two women they’d gotten farther in their inter-dimensional research, and tomorrow Cisco was going to try contact with Barry again.  It was about time they try to bring back their speedster.

 

* * *

 

The day began as any other day would when one keeps forgetting that they are in a different dimension.  Barry always has to take a minute to remember where he is and who is knocking on his door yelling ‘pancakes’.  It always took a couple seconds to accept that he was in a different dimension. As the days went by he adjusted to his temporary home, and spent less time almost vibrating through his bed.

 

After his destructive and self-loathing train of thought had run its course last night, Barry had fallen asleep.  He awakened feeling refreshed and ready to completely ignore those feelings until they became too heavy again.  Nothing beats repressing emotions, except maybe healthy coping mechanisms.  But Barry didn't have time to learn what those are.

 

Speeding his way through his morning routine was wonderful after not being able to use the 'Force for a while.  He hummed happily as he showered in three seconds – he took his time today – and got dressed in 0.5.  Barry was sitting on the couch by the time Peter was finished knocking on his door.  He couldn’t help but smirk when the younger man yelped.

 

“You need to _not_ ,” Peter said, pressing a hand to his chest.

 

Barry ignored that and asked, “Who’s making pancakes?”

 

“Well, Natasha, Clint, and Sam - you haven't met him yet -  have to go on some sort of mission.  Matt is at work and he’ll be too busy for about a bit to swing by.  Scott can only make cereal and instant ramen for himself – I think he got hammered last night, too – and Thor, who you also haven't met, is with his girlfriend.  Tony and Bruce were up all night working on a new treadmill so they’ll probably just get more coffee.  So, I made pancakes.”  Peter looked sheepish.  “I’m not that good of a cook, though.”

 

Barry decided that he was going to be the judge of that and sauntered over to the kitchen island.  There were two big plates with a stack of pancakes on each one.  They were golden and fluffy, almost the size of the dinner plate itself.  He took his time serving himself, smiling a little at how nervous Peter looked.  The first bite of them was heavenly, and he told this to Peter.

 

“My aunt taught me how,” he said proudly, but he didn’t smile.  “Before she- uh…”

 

Barry swallowed his mouthful.  Loss was an old friend of his and he could detect it easily.  “You don't need to answer this.  I understand how you feel.  Were you close?”

 

Peter nodded, which Barry took as a sign that he wasn’t offended.  “My aunt and uncle took me in after my parents died.  My uncle Ben died when I first got my powers.  Some guy was robbing a store and my uncle- yeah.  Aunt May, she went peacefully.  My girlfriend Gwen...”  The words seemed to rush out of him, as if the teen had been holding it in for a while.  Judging by the younger man’s tone, the pain from his uncle’s death was dulling.  However, bitterness was left over from his aunt’s death and fresh grief from his girlfriend’s death.  It seemed Barry and Peter were both tired of it.

  
“Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.  My mother died when I was young, and my father…He was killed.”  Barry couldn’t keep his emotions in check when he thought about his father yet, so his fury and grief bled into his words.  Peter tentatively reached to bump their shoulders together - a gesture that Barry appreciated.  They shared tentative smiles, Barry being the first to look away.  Talking about his father still hurt.  “I need- I need to run.”  He said.  Desperation showed in the lines in his face, in the gleam of his eyes, in his words.

 

“Come with me,” Peter took Barry’s wrist in his hand and led the older man to the training room.  Tony had been working on making a track room in the building the moment Barry almost shorted out the treadmill.  Obviously, he had decided that super-advanced alcohol was more important, but he had finished it soon after.

 

Peter opened the door, revealing the large friction-proof track.  On one side of the large room was a little niche in the wall where a phone could be plugged in to play music.  There was a Stark brand surround sound system installed in the room, because Tony could only have the best of the best in his tower.  Barry flashed over to it, relieved that he had the sense to grab his phone the night he…

 

He shook his head and quickly pressed shuffle.

 

_I backed my car into a cop car the other day_

_Well, he just drove off – sometimes life’s okay_

_I ran my mouth off a bit too much, ah what did I say?_

_Well, you just laughed it off and it was all okay_

Barry took off, zipping around the track.  Along with a track, Tony had made the speedster friction-proof shoes, too.  He silently thanked the genius because the last thing he needed right now was to light on fire.  It was enough that he couldn’t get his emotions under control. 

 

Barry’s stomach felt empty, and his heart ached.  The memory of his father’s death dug up his frustration and guilt yet again, making him notice the absence of his team more than usual.  He missed their endless patience and sympathy.  How could he fail them so completely?

 

 _Focus on the lyrics,_ Barry urged himself.  He tried to stop thinking, listening intently to the singer.  To really appreciate the lyrics, Barry slowed down until his shape was visible to the naked eye.

 

_Good news will work its way to all them plans_

_We both got fired on exactly the same day_

_Well, we’ll float on good news is on its way_

_And we’ll all float on okay_

_And we’ll all float on okay_

_And we’ll all float on okay_

_And we’ll float on alright_

Barry sang along in his mind as well as he could when the gnawing feeling in his stomach was demanding his attention.  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Peter sitting by the door.  The teen’s eyes were closed and he seemed to be swaying to the music.

 

Barry breathed deeply as he dug his feet harder into the ground and pushed himself faster.  He wanted to feel closer to the lightning under his skin, he wanted the heat of it to envelope him like a loved one’s embrace.  The song was distorted until he couldn’t hear anything but the crackle of his own essence around him.  Warmth coursed through his veins like a soothing balm for his nerves.

 

When he ran this fast for no reason, no reason but for the hell of it, he felt as though Eobard Thawne had never come into his life.  Barry’s shoulders relaxed and the only thing to do was keep running.  Where he was right now, all he could do was run between the line of Barry Allen and the Flash.  He could only think of running fast enough to stay in the peaceful limbo where nothing else mattered, where everything around him stopped.  His heart pounded in his ears and his breath whooshed in and out rhythmically.  Here, he couldn’t be touched.  Barry was right where he wanted to be of his own power and will.  He felt safe and at home as if he couldn’t be hurt by anything or anyone.  The invincibility that had been shattered by his father’s death was present here.  The difference was that the confidence that came from his Speed encounter came from a dangerous and fabricated infallibility.  Barry knew that this the safest place he could be.

 

The downside was that he just couldn’t go fast enough forever.  It was taxing after a certain point even on his speedster body, so the moment of euphoria was dulled when he had to slow down.  Breathing heavily, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and absently realized that the song was ending.

 

_Now don’t you worry, we’ll all float on_

_We’ll all float on_

 

Peter approached him as the notes faded out.  “Feel better?”  He asked, looking at him with light concern.

 

“Yeah,” Barry said honestly, “I do.”

 

Peter gave him a bright smile, “Good!  While you were running, I got an idea.  I thought we could play a game of Monopoly.  After you shower, of course.  You smell like a high school gym.”

 

* * *

 

No amount of speed training could prepare Barry for the beat down of the century.  Peter was the reigning champion of Monopoly. 

 

“All will bow to the mighty Peter!  King of Monopoly!”  The arachnid was standing, victorious, on the couch.  Barry had been so badly beaten that he couldn’t help but slide off of the cushions.

 

“How am I _so bad_ at this game?”  He groaned.

 

“It’s not just that.” Peter amended, “It’s not just that you suck, I’m _really_ good at rolling dice.”  He gave Barry a friendly pat on the head as he jumped down from the couch.  “How about I give you a chance to redeem yourself?  Let’s tell each other superhero stories!”

 

“Thank God,” Barry said, “I definitely have more experience than you in the field, little man.”

 

“I am almost 19!”  Peter squawked.

 

“So small.”

 

* * *

 

 Peter had made the pancakes at 1 o’clock in the afternoon (breakfast is an all-day meal in the Avengers household) and the Monopoly fiasco had taken almost 2 hours.  Despite the clock reading 3:34 pm, the two heroes agreed that the only proper way to tell stories is in a pillow fort with marshmallows as snacks.  They were bundled together under one large Spider-Man themed comforter (a gift from Tony) on the largest bean bag in the commons. 

 

“One time,” Barry said around a marshmallow, “I almost got killed by a bunch of bees.”  Peter’s eyes bugged out but his mouth was too full of the fluffy snack to ask.  “Yeah, my team and I were chasing this bee lady, she filled these little bee robots with poison.”

 

“I’ll admit, that’s better than getting attacked by my stalker.”

 

“Uh—“

 

“Yeah, I saved him from a car and tried to cheer him up.  Apparently he wasn’t very popular at work and he fixated on me.  Some really unfortunate coincidences led to him almost electrocuting me.”  After a moment of thinking back on the man, Peter opened his jaws and signaled that Barry should throw a marshmallow in his marshmallow-devouring maw.  The speedster complied in fear of having the hungry teen bite off his fingers.  However, before he ever threw the fluffy treat a huge yawn made Barry’s eyes water.  Peter followed along with a jaw-cracking yawn of his own.

 

“What time is it,” Barry asked, having lost track of time after their late breakfast.

 

“Time for a nap,” Peter said matter-of-factly, “I woke up early to train.  _Six in the morning_.  I think Natasha is rubbing off on me…”  He trailed off, snuggling into the bean bag and therefore closer to Barry.  The speedster gave off heat all the time, making the beanbag bed hot as an oven.  It was comfortable, though, because the air conditioner was on – in an attempt to keep the New York summer heat out, the tower had become chilly inside.

 

“Okay,” Barry relented, “Nap time.”  With one last yawn he sank into the squishy softness and instinctively curled around Peter.  The kid was lanky, but Barry was still taller.  He felt a sense of protectiveness for him, too.

 

The beanbag cocoon was comfortable.  It made the stress melt off of the two grieving heroes and put them to sleep in minutes.  The tower was quiet.

 

* * *

 

In the shadows, a figure lurked.  It peered up at the huge, obnoxious ‘A’ that sat on the tower.  It had been alerted to the raw amount of power that resided in the Avenger’s home.  There had never been an energy signature like that before, not even when the witch had decided to join those buffoons.  The figure retreated back into the darkness slowly.  He swore to find the energy source, and take it for himself.

 

No matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own the song Float On by Modest Mouse but I sure do like it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry accidentally snoops and is rewarded with a warning. But it isn't about eavesdropping.

Barry was always a quiet kid.  Iris was the chatterbox out of the two of them, even later in life.  They worked well that way, like in so many other aspects of their sibling relationship.  As a result of being so quiet was that Barry overheard things easily.  He seemed to have his head in the clouds all the time, but in reality, he just didn’t find speaking his thoughts that fun – quite the opposite, in fact.  He grew out of it as the rest of his limbs grew, but even as an adult Barry caught things that were meant for other people.

 

Like now, for instance.  Peter had reassured him that no one minded if he explored the two common room floors since it was all recreation.  He even recommended the spa room, because of course they had a spa room.  Barry had been walking about shoeless because it was Sunday and he deserves some leisure.  Said leisure was in the form of wearing pajama pants, fuzzy socks, and an unzipped hoodie – the temperature was always perfectly maintained in the tower – at 3 in the afternoon.

 

He was about to round the corner back into the large living room, the one with the bar and large couch, when he heard an unfamiliar voice.  The deep voice by itself was intimidating, which said a lot about the owner because Barry couldn’t even see the man talking but knew he should not be messed with.  It may have been because of the anger that laced it.

 

“—so now Doctor goddamn Octopus is roaming New York!  A man who willingly goes by ‘Octopus’ is free after yelling some weird shi—“

 

Barry’s morals forced him to keep walking, which prompted the voice to cut off.  As he stepped into the room, the speedster took note of those in it.  Steve, Natasha, and Clint were all back and had been talking to the mystery man Barry had heard.  The man had dark skin, a black trench coat, and an eyepatch.  He looked like the type of man to have ripped out his own eye to throw at an arch nemesis and ultimately win a fight that way.  Or, maybe it was just the nerd in Barry projecting.  Most likely.

 

He regretted interrupting the conversation.  “Oh- sorry- I’ll just…”  Barry trailed off, not knowing what to say and backing away steadily.

 

“Wait,” Steve, who had only recently been introduced to Barry, called out, “You must be Barry.  This is Director Fury.  He is responsible for bringing the Avengers together and running SHIELD, an agency that keeps the world from being destroyed.”  All four turned to Barry, who was now blushing slightly and regretting not putting on a shirt in the morning.

 

Fury gave him a grim nod, “You must be Mr. Allen.  We have a lot to discuss.”

 

* * *

 

Barry furrowed his brows and turned to Steve with a half-sheepish, half-confused look.  The blond man gave a reassuring smile complete with a small thumbs-up.  Natasha was smirking and apparently the only one who thought the situation humorous.  Fury was rubbing his forehead and muttering profanities under her breath after Barry had finished his explanation of just how he ended up in a different universe. 

 

“So, you’re a metahuman.  You’re not a mutant and you're not some lucky guy like Spider-Boy or Dumbass Devil.  And you tore a hole in the fabric of your universe and just popped over here on accident.”  Fury growled.  It seemed to be the only way he spoke.  “Just what I needed.  A speedster.”

 

“Uh…sorry?”  Barry didn’t know what the etiquette was for this situation.  Should he get him an ‘I’m sorry I complicated your life further’ card?  A small gift, maybe?

 

The Director blew out a long and hard breath.  He leaned back against the chair he sat on and locked eyes with Barry.  It made him subconsciously press into the cushion of the couch further.  “What I need is not an apology.  You’re here now.  What’s important is that you stay in Stark’s tower – _no matter what_ ,” he spoke calmly, but Barry heard the cold underlying tone.  “New York is not ready for you, so just stay put and play Rapunzel until you figure out a way back.”

 

Barry nodded.  Despite the possibility of having a knife in his throat for pursuing his curiosity, he had to ask.  “If you don’t mind, Director, who is Doctor- uh, Tentacles?”

 

Natasha answered for him, “Doc Ock.  He’s one of Peter’s more dangerous villains.  Doc Ock has almost killed Pete a couple of times, but we captured him a few months back.  He escaped yesterday with the help of another villain we haven’t identified yet, probably just a low-level foot soldier.”

 

Fury cut in, “He’ll be caught soon, and will not get out again.”  With that, he stood and swept into the elevator, nodding at Steve, Clint, and Natasha.  They followed him in, and the doors closed.

 

* * *

 

Barry’s story took an hour to tell, so it was already 4 pm when Fury left.  Half an hour later found him hungry and ready to have a light snack.  Preferably a chicken salad, with several glasses of water.  When he walked into the kitchen, however, he was met with a man he assumed was Sam preparing what seemed to be a feast.

 

“Hey, you're Barry, right?  I was just making dinner.”  Sam shot him a smile that made Barry feel happier than he thought he should be.  It was such a nice smile.

 

“But, it’s only 4.  Isn’t it a bit early to be eating dinner?”  Barry tilted his head in confusion.

 

Sam shook his head and turned back to the turkey he was preparing for the oven.  “I made a deal with the others.  I can’t cook for a bunch of ravenous superheroes every day, but they annoyed me into agreeing to at least once every two weeks.  Peter's too busy to be cooking, and none of them want to force him to.  They just eat take out otherwise - or not at all - so healthy, homemade food is a nice treat.”

 

And then Barry delivered the bad news.  A speedster should be eating the same amount of food that the residents of Avenger’s Tower ate all together.  

 

Sam cocked an eyebrow.  "Tony hasn't made you some sort of protein bars yet?  Wait- he probably just forgot to give you them when he crawls out of the lab."

 

Barry volunteered to help with dinner, and Sam replied with a good-natured ‘damn right’.

 

“I used to cook with my mom,” Barry said.  He was tasked with baking the rolls, and later helping with the last-minute request of chicken salad.  “My dad- uh, he was a doctor.  He made sure my mom and I ate healthily.”  Barry kept his eyes on the dough.

 

Sam was mixing the shredded cheddar into the pot of bubbling elbow pasta.  “If you don’t mind me asking, Barry,” he started, “Did you lose them recently?  You don’t need to answer.”

 

The younger man continued kneading the dough.  He took a moment.  “Just my dad.  My mom died when I was younger.”

 

“He sounded like a good man.”

 

“He was.”

 

They left it at that.  Somehow, Barry felt something important happened between them.  A bond, like with Peter, had been formed.  He was glad it was with a man such as Sam.

 

They finished cooking an hour and a half later.  During that time, more and more heroes trickled into the living room.  The television was turned on and chatter filled the room.  Summer made the days longer, so the sunset hadn't even begun.  

 

Clint, Natasha, and Steve were still with Fury, doing whatever SHIELD needed them to.  Hell’s Kitchen seemed to be okay without him tonight so Matt was able to take part in the wonder of Sam’s cooking.  The rest of the Avengers (the ones that were available) – Wanda, Peter, Scott, Bruce, and Tony – were waiting eagerly for the feast.  Together, they ate like a family.  Well, they ate like what Barry imagined a big family was like.  Jokes flew across the table and there was never a silent moment.  It was the perfect night.

 

It only made sense that the universe would violently and suddenly balance it out.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry wakes up from a bad dream into an even worse reality.  
> (Chapter Contains Asphyxiation!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to "Yes the author is still writing for this and feels really bad but finally has free time so thanks EVERYONE that's still reading and also sorry again!"
> 
> Yeah.  
> EDIT 8/18/2018:  
> I cut a scene out of here for the sake of the later, better chapters with more structure. Sorry!

_Barry was home sitting on the couch.  A faint sense of surprise and confusion filled his clouded mind.  He can’t remember the last thing he was doing, or how he got on his couch next to Iris and Wally.  Joe’s singing floated in from the kitchen as well as the wonderful smell of his cooking.  Iris is looking at him and he realizes she’s speaking._

_“…Did a great job today.  I remember when you were just starting out,” she chuckled warmly._

_“Iris,” Barry said, “Wally.  Where…how am I here?”_

_“What do you mean, Bar?”  Joe asked from the stove.  “Never mind.  You just need some food in you.  It’s almost ready.  Wally, will you set the table?”_

_“No…what?  This…I thought I was in the ‘Tower…”_

_Barry trailed off and put a hand to his chest.  His heart was beating even faster than usual.  He had to breathe harder to compensate.  He looked up and saw that the three of them were gone and he was in the Cortex now.  It became even harder to draw in air when he saw that Cisco and Caitlin were on the floor, pale and unmoving.  Barry called out weakly, hands clutching his own shirt, and turned on his heel.  Fingers wrapped around his throat.  The pressure built, and suddenly it was too much._

Barry rolled off the bed and landed with a thump.  The pressure on his throat didn’t let up.  He wheezed painfully, shifted onto his hands and knees, forehead pressed to the floor.  The lack of oxygen made stars pop all around his eyesight, which was slowly failing him.  His hands scrambled at the bed sheets, desperately searching a hand-hold.  Barry’s sheets ended up on the floor as he bolted out of the room.  The living room was desolate and the sky outside was being torn apart by a lightning storm. 

 

Barry tried yelling for someone but all that came out was a wheeze.  He could feel his own throat start closing up, bringing a desperate sort of panic from his survival instincts.  His lungs were begging for air and blood began to rush to his head in an effort to make up for the ineffectual, shallow breaths.  In the midst of this, a voice began to speak from hidden speakers. 

 

“ _Barry, I am calling Boss because it appears that you’re in respiratory distress.  The protocol calls for alerting any and all Avengers currently in the Avengers Tower.  There are three other Avengers in the Tower, currently in the training room closest to your floor.  I have alerted them to your medical emergency.  While they are en route, please try to keep breathing.  Boss is calling and wishes to have a visual, and will be speaking now.”_

It must be FRIDAY, Tony’s AI.  Barry could only barely remembered talking about it.

_“Barry, FRIDAY is telling me you set of a medical alarm you naughty boy- oh.”_ The audio became muffled for a moment.  “ _You’re looking rough there Barry, but I’m almost there, so just try your hardest to_ not _pass out.  Peter, Scott, and Sam are all in the Tower and are headed to your floor right now.  Hang in there.  Tony, out.”_ And then there was silence except the beating of the rain against the glass. 

 

Barry propped himself up against the living room wall.  His condition had hit a plateau, body halfway to death but still clinging to whatever life it had left.  Every second passed slowly, each more torturous than the last.  He was aware of the elevator whirring, no doubt going as fast as possible, but the worst part was his mind and body warring against each other.  His survival instinct was telling him to use every ounce of energy to drag in big, heaving breathes.  His body was being battered by whatever had invaded it.  His whole being was in distress.  And the night only got worse from there.

A shadow loomed against the glass opposite of Barry.  Someone, or something, had climbed up Stark Tower.   Glass shattered all around him, rain pouring in from the outside.  The figure crawled into the room, dripping in water and shrouded in darkness.

 

“There he is, the man of the hour!”  The hideous tangle of flesh and metal groaned.

 

The elevator dinged.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The elevator unloads its surprise, and things somehow get even worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cliffhangers?
> 
> you want cliffhangers?
> 
> you want /more/ cliffhangers...
> 
> okay!

The elevator doors opened with a serene slowness that captured Barry’s attention.  Out spilled Ant-Man, Falcon, and Daredevil. 

 

“Stop right there,” the man-looking monster said.  “Move and I will let him suffocate where he lies.”

 

If Barry wasn’t desperately sucking air into his panicking body, he would have noticed Matt’s jaw clenching or Scott’s muttered cursing.  He would have been surprised at how vulgar the man could be when under duress.  Sam, though, was stoic.  Even as Barry’s thoughts slowly became consumed by the tightening of his chest, he was comforted by how controlled Sam was. 

 

But these were the Avengers.  Three fully grown and well-trained men, all lethal under the right circumstances.  The problem was that all of those circumstances included being able to move.  And if they did, Barry would die a slow and painful death.

 

“What the hell are you doing to him?”  Daredevil’s voice was like gravel, low and rough, and filled with barely-restrained fury. 

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”  It said.  A flash of lightning washed the room in white for a split-second.  Thunder rumbled nearby.  “And I am sure your little speedster would like to know who I am.  Listen closely.  I am Doctor Octavius, and you’re coming with me.”

* * *

 

One couldn’t help but wonder what it was that made Team Flash such a lightning rod for trouble.  Cisco recently spent quite a large chunk of his day ruminating upon that in the back of his mind.  It usually came up when the crap hits the fan.  When Barry nearly died at the hands of Zoom, or when Henry Allen was ripped from his son’s hands so soon after reconnecting, it was almost all he could think about.  Even as his mind was nearly consumed by whatever pressing matter needed his attention, like keeping an eye on Barry or engineering something to take down a meta-human, it was a steady buzz at the back of his head.

 

That didn’t change, even when one of his best friends was so far away, when the new and fresh horror was choking the team, Cisco still had to wonder why.

 

He didn’t get an answer.  All he got was the vision of his friend being tortured. 

 

“Cisco, what did you see?”  Caitlin repeated for what must have been the fourth time.  Her patience was thinning these days but she never once snapped at him.  They couldn’t turn against each other when the only thing keeping them up was, well, each other.

 

“Barry,” he choked out, “I saw Barry.”

* * *

"What makes you think we’ll do you what you say?”  Scott takes a step closer to Barry.  The speedster could sense even in his state that it was a mistake.  Doc Ock scuttled closer and in between one flash of lightning and the next, he had Scott trapped in the grip of one of his metal arms.  In the same instance, Barry was grabbed up by another arm.  The band of iron around his lungs was tightened further by the literal band of steel around his chest. 

 

“Because, you detestable insect, I’ll crush you and your little friend if you don’t.  And if you even think about shrinking, I’ll show you what the insides of a speedster look like all over the wall.”

 

The world around Barry was quickly becoming more blurry, bruising around the edges.  The struggle for air was more intense, and so nearly his full focus was on his body failing.  He no longer had enough energy to keep his head up, let alone fight against Doc Ock.  Distantly, he could hear Scott telling him to hang in there, _don’t pass out, Barry, keep breathing._ Barry imagined that he looked like a fish on dry land at this point, limp in Ock’s grip.

 

“Now that you’re all paying attention,” he shook Barry for extra measure, “We can get down to business.  I have the antidote for the speedster.  All I need in return is for him to come with me.”

 

Sam scoffed.  “You think we’re going to let you take him that easily?”  Doc Ock’s anger was as visible as it was potent; he squeezed down on Barry and Scott both, pulling wheezes from them.

 

Barry couldn’t take much more of this, of their self-sacrificing nature.  It was hypocritical for him to be so upset over it, but that’s how it was.  It was always easier for Barry to just take the burden on himself, that way no one else got hurt.  But now he was surrounded by other self-destructive superheroes who had the same mindset.  They were all begging to be forgiven subconsciously for whatever trauma tormented them, taking any opportunity to try to make up for some burden they put on themselves. 

 

It opened Barry’s eyes to how painful it could be to watch the people around you try so hard to run themselves into the ground.  He took a moment to inhale whatever air he could get in, and then he spoke. 

 

 “If…if I go with you…you won’t h-hurt them?”  Every word took a Herculean effort to say, but he needed to know.  If he was going to let himself be taken by a man who called himself ‘Doc Ock’ then he had to know it wasn’t for naught.

 

“Don’t, Barry!”  Scott cried.  “You don’t have to—“

 

“Shut up.”  Without hesitating, Octavius tightened the iron claw around Scott’s torso.  It ripped a scream out of him until something cracked, and only then did Octavius stop.  He turned to Barry now, his full attention sending chills down Barry’s back.  “That’s the deal.  If you come with me, and your friends don’t stop us, I’ll let them live.  I’ll even reverse the paralyzing agent that’s killing you slowly.”

 

“H-how do I know you’re going…going to keep your word?”

 

Octavius looked at him with a triumphant grin.  “No worries about that.  The Tin-Man is almost here, so it would be in my best interest to get out of here as soon as possible.”  He swiftly, and without a second thought for Scott’s broken ribs, threw the other hero at Sam and Matt.  They caught him, but only barely. 

 

Matt stood up from where he had set Scott down.  “Barry-  Barry, just hang on, Tony is almost here.”

 

Sam held the unconscious man close to him.  “Octavius, _stop_ , don’t you _dare_ —“

 

But Doc Ock was scuttling backwards toward the hole in the window.  Barry’s lungs were nearly unresponsive after his efforts.  Speaking had apparently only worsened his state.  But even as he was blacking out, not knowing if he was even trying to breathe anymore, he could still feel the icy rain on his skin.  The last things he heard were Doc Ock’s claws clanging on the side of the skyscraper and thunder rumbling.

                                                                                                                                                                                              

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not really happy with this chapter. just take it. take it off my hands. please.
> 
> stayed tuned for the next one!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry gets a good look at his captor.  
> (Chapter Contains Torture!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long Note Ahead--  
> So when I started this damn story I didn't actually have a plan! I had an idea, maybe like 12% of a concept, but not a single story to follow! So now, writing is a bit hard. But I'll be drawing up an arc to follow to make it easier. This story is honestly one of the hardest ones for me to write, mostly because my plans were vague and past-me believed I could stuff every character in the Marvel universe in here without consequences or complications. However, I really, really like writing this and I don't plan on stopping any time soon - unfortunately, school is starting again soon! So updates are going to be a bit slow. But never fear that I've given it up unless I explicitly say so, and in that case, I've probably also been taken by Doc Ock.  
> TL;DR: I'm bad at updating but I'm getting my shit together! Also, tense is changing because I said so.

Barry’s consciousness returns slowly and painfully.  He remembers being dragged around in the dark with occasional lights striking his eyes.  His chest is sore and he has a killer headache.

 

The pain doesn’t stop there; he’s held up by iron bands around his wrists, ankles and a large one around his waist.  Frankly, it's terribly uncomfortable, and he's sick of waking up in places he doesn't recognize.

 

He’s half-awake and still struggling when a sensation blows through him and it’s almost too agonizing to register the familiarity.  One name pops into his head: Hartley Rathaway.  Barry has never felt anything like the destructive and invasive force of sound waves catered specifically to rip him apart.  The pain is truly all-encompassing, stopping most thoughts past _make it stop_.  It leaves him in limbo with nothing to focus on but the sensations – there’s no compartmentalizing when his mind is so off-kilter.  

 

Trapped between his mind and his instinct, he can’t really tell how much time passed before the waves stopped assaulting his body.  The instant cut-off is as jarring as it is relieving.  The relative clarity of mind that followed allowed him to remember just how bad the situation is.

 

Barry desperately wants to remain unaware of the danger he’s in, fade back into sleep and wake up somewhere a lot less creepy and disgusting, but nothing will ever be that easy for him.  After steeling himself with as deep a breath as he can take – and it isn’t very deep, the damage done by the gas must not have been healed completely yet – Barry slides open his eyes.

 

He’s met with a disheartening and frankly startling view of the man that’s responsible for his present suffering.  Doc Ock’s face is disturbingly close to Barry’s, and the expression on it doesn’t make him feel better.  It’s a distinct mix of clinical detachment and maniacal curiosity that tells Barry he’s not going to like spending time with this man.

 

“Ah, you’re awake.  I almost thought the paralyzing agent had done its job too well.”

 

For a split second, Barry thought this guy might be dead.  Maybe it’s because his mind is muddled, maybe it’s because of the greenish tint to Doc Ock’s skin, but the smell of this guy’s breath is revolting.

 

“Dude,” Barry’s voice is raspy, “Have you ever brushed your teeth?  At all?”

 

Doc Ock proves to be sensitive about his breath.  He turns the sound waves back on without another word, though this time on a lower magnitude, and scuttles away into the darkness.  In tandem with the vibrations rattling his body, echoing through his bones and tendons, Barry screams.  His nerves sing with the consequences of his big mouth and the only thought he can sustain anymore is, _I want my mom._   And worse, _I want my dad._

Seconds melt into one another.  He attempts to keep track but every time he gets to 5, the numbers just fall out of his head.  After a handful of attempts, Barry estimated a couple minutes might have passed, but after that, time just gets fuzzy.  His existence is narrowed down to the agony gripping his whole body and the tea-kettle whistling in his ears and his teeth buzzing in his skull. 

 

It’s funny how he only knows that his throat is too raw to keep screaming because the vibration of his vocal chords tapers off.  It doesn’t stop there – the frequency is still high enough to be wreaking havoc on his body, however slowly, and he feels his eardrums come closer and closer to bursting. 

 

Finally, the sound waves are cut off.  A sound shudders out of Barry that he will regret almost as much as the comment that had angered Doc Ock.  He realizes that there’s tears running down his face, that he’s been sobbing soundlessly long enough for his chest to heave and ache.  Barry couldn’t school his expression fast enough.  Regardless of the fact that he’s still shaking and that he can’t wipe away the tears still beading on his eyelashes and dripping down his chin, he doesn’t want to give Doc Ock any more satisfaction.  Barry knows it’s dangerous to hold that much pride, but he’ll die before he ever bows to the monster.  Not when he’s been stubborn enough to survive so much tragedy.

 

“I stopped,” Octavius drawls, “Because I find it harder to interrogate a subject if they can’t hear me, and it’s especially annoying if you’re choking on too much blood to answer.”  He scuttles to the side to fiddle with some knobs that Barry can’t focus enough to see.  “However, don’t be fooled.  I won’t hesitate to make you wish you were never born.  Comply, and you’ll be fine.  If you don’t…”

 

Octavius’s fingertips inches toward a button; something primal in Barry urges him to beg the man to stop.  He swallows it down and clenches his eyes shut in preparation for the pain.  It’s only a couple of seconds.  Nothing, really, compared to the prolonged exposure to the sound waves.  But Doc Ock must really need some answers because this time the frequency and magnitude blast through him so viciously that he can’t help it.

 

Barry’s scream is like sandpaper on his throat.  It loud even to his own ears, so it must be music to Doc Ock’s ears.  He doesn’t relent – not yet.  Barry won’t break that easily.  If he was fragile enough to beg  this early into his captivity, he would have done something irreversible a long time ago.  Shame floods him when he realize he nearly did.  Just days ago Barry was so willing to change the timeline of his universe simply so his parents could still be with him.  But he can’t focus on that, not when Doc Ock starts to speak.

 

“Barry, Barry, Barry…a nickname for Bartholomew.  You don’t exist in this universe, so I can’t trace down the rest of your name, so how about you introduce yourself?  It’s only polite.” 

 

The magnitude of the sound waves had apparently been enough for more damage to be done in that timespan than in however long Doc Ock left him earlier.  Blood wells up from Barry’s torn throat, stinging and choking, but he gathers it in his mouth instead of swallowing.  Looking down at Octavius from where he hangs, Barry steels himself.

 

“Fuck you.”  Barry spits the glob of blood directly onto Doc Ock’s cheek.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, you might be thinking, how many cliffhangers can this poor sonuva fit in one story? The answer is many and I'm not gonna stop. Cya next time my loyal lovelies!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Barry's abduction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! As usual, I come bearing a chapter after a long pause. I apologize but this time I have a better solution than just scolding myself. I've made a side blog for this account on Tumblr under the same username - cancerthecrabbo - where I'll be posting updates on writing, other important info, and I'll be able to interact with you guys better. Hopefully, you guys are still interested in this story! The only way for me to know that it's worth it to keep writing is your feedback! Comments are a bigger indicator of interest than kudos, to be honest, and I need all the motivation I can get while I struggle with school and general life stuff.
> 
> TL;DR: COME BOTHER ME ON TUMBLR PLEASE!!!!!

Having superpowers has always been helpful for Cisco.  Seeing the future and seeing other dimensions is something he’ll never take for granted, but on nights like these when all he wants to do is fall asleep before 3 AM, it seems to be more of a curse than a blessing.

 

Lately, it’s been torturous to feel that pulse in the back of his eyes and know that he’s about to see his best friend in immense pain.  He’s had three different vibes this day, and all of them have Barry in them.  On one hand, being able to see Barry when he’s so far away and see that he’s alive is very reassuring, but the entire day, Barry’s been in a dark room with iron bands holding him to a wall.  Cisco can’t just close his eyes and stop seeing it.

 

Lying in bed and looking up at the ceiling, Cisco feels something in the back of his eyes.  He sucks in a breath as his perspective is warped and collapses within itself to reveal the same damn room yet again. 

 

_Despite seeing a vibe, he still needs to let his eyes adjust and seek out the figure on the wall.  The same thick bands of iron are around Barry’s waist, wrist, ankles, and his neck.  He’s splayed out like a frog on a tray, ready to be cut open.  There’s a new trail of blood dripping from his ears – a side-effect of the sound waves the freak that’s holding Barry has been using, something that truly horrified Cisco.  It’s quiet for a moment longer before Barry starts to vibrate.  A light flickers on beside him somewhere in the darkness and he’s suddenly jerking and trembling from what must be an electrical current.  Cisco doesn’t appreciate the irony.  His heart sinks when he realizes that might have been Barry’s last means of escape._

_Doc Ock – a name Cisco had the privilege of learning over course of the day – scuttles back into view like a huge, hulking spider._

_“Bartholomew—,”_

_“—We’re not a first name basis.  Call me Flash.”_

_“How many times am I going to have to make you scream for you to understand that I’m in charge here?  No matter how many little jokes you try to tell to salvage your sanity, I’ll break you.  And when I do, you’ll wish you’d just told me what I need to know.  So let’s start again, Bartholomew.  How did you get your speed?”_

_Barry is silent, and Cisco wishes he would just spew some bullshit so he can be spared any more pain.  But Cisco can’t talk and he knows Barry won’t, not if it’s just his life on the line.  Doc Ock, who may or may not be a metahuman, sighs like a disappointed father and side-steps to a control board.  Cisco tries to turn away but the world splinters and remakes itself into the same image he so desperately wants to avoid.  A small clicks sounds, the scene vibrates alongside the sound waves assaulting Barry, and Cisco can’t see anything anymore._

 

* * *

 

The broken glass has been cleared out and the window has already been repaired.  It isn’t a big surprise given that Tony wouldn’t allow the ‘Tower to be compromised for any longer than necessary and with his money he can get any contractor on site in the blink of an eye.  In this case, not even the most relaxed of the bunch would want any stranger into the ‘Tower, so Tony just had one of his more competent robots replace the window. 

 

It’s not necessarily silent.  No one is holding their breath, and the atmosphere is definitely not awkward.  Though it isn’t awkward, it’s dark.  Scott’s ribcage was nearly pulverized by Doc Ock and hasn’t woken up; he was completely unresponsive as they moved him to the Cradle.  His silence and the way he was like a rag doll as he was moved was truly frightening.  There was another factor, something almost indescribable – a sense that something was missing.  It hadn’t been there until Barry was gone, as if they had all gotten accustomed to a comfortable warmth and it was ripped away.  No one mentioned it to each other, but it was obvious. 

 

Peter was itching to get out of here.  He knows where Doc Ock is and he personally has visited his _dungeon_ and knows the possibilities of the torture Barry could be going through at this very moment.  The very thought of it, of Barry’s screams, fills him with nausea.  But he’s been forbidden from going out on his own – something that a more reasonable Peter might be able to grasp better if it weren’t for the fact that the ragged scar on his thigh is pulsing.  It was a present from Doc Ock when Peter had called him a walking, talking bloated corpse.

 

He had almost bled out in that grimy hell hole and when he was finally found, he had nearly lost his leg from the infection that left him half-dead.  Peter can see that Barry is in a place where he needs to rest and recover for his mental health; it's something Peter has gone through himself.  A few days alone, one-on-one, with Doc Ock could tear him down. 

 

So, yeah, Peter is feeling a bit impatient right now.  He wants to go rescue Barry.  Even if that lanky fool weren't Peter's friend, he'd still be trying to convince the remaining and available Avengers to go and clean out Doc Ock's shitty hole of a lab.  There's nothing holding them back at the moment other than Nick Fury's order to stay inside - Fury had forced Bruce to chip Barry the second his powers were discovered.  Peter doesn't know how Bruce did it and doesn't want to.

 

The point is: Peter is going to sneak out if someone doesn't do something in the next five minutes.

 

"I see you're ready to go."  Daredevil, in true Matthew Murdock fashion, appears behind Peter where he stands staring at the new window.  "Tony is taking point on this one, given his ability to, ah, track Barry."

 

Peter makes a short noise of acknowledgment.  The scar throbs harder.  Matt's unseeing eyes may not burn twin holes into his back but his very presence and knowing silence are enough.  Peter turns to look at him.  

 

"Doc Ock is hurting him right now.  Don't I have a right to be worried?  Maybe even a little hysterical?"

 

"...I can't hear him.  Barry's heart sounds like a muted lightning storm, and when he's especially happy, I think he purrs.  He smells like petrichor under the soap that Tony has in the 'Tower.  His presence is all over this floor."

 

Matt's gloved hand is so light on Peter's shoulder he could nearly pretend it isn't there.  That is doesn't bring him comfort.  He can nearly ignore the welling fear and anxiety he's been pushing down with anger.

 

"I can feel his absence, too, Peter.  We're getting him back.  But we have to plan first."

 

And then he's gone, but not without Spider-Man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly......"lanky fool" is the greatest thing I've ever written.
> 
> Seriously, come bother me on Tumblr. Any sign that my readers are alive (or just plain exist) is a huge boost of motivation. Also, you can yell at me for any inconsistencies/not posting for months on end. Or give me requests. Bye <3

**Author's Note:**

> If you've guessed who the big bad is, don't spoil it! Keep that satisfaction to yourself until next time, huh?


End file.
